


In the Library

by Ehtar



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: (except not quite due to age), Enemies to Lovers, Gen, M/M, Matt | Mail Jeevas is a Bro, Mutually oblivious, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, POV Alternating, Pre-Canon, Two Endings, Wammy House, Wordcount: 30.000-50.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:07:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29687871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ehtar/pseuds/Ehtar
Summary: On a cold day at Wammy's, a library offers comfort to Near and Mello. As well as some confusing insights.Originally posted to FFnet: May 8, 2009 - June 21, 2009
Relationships: Matt | Mail Jeevas & Mello | Mihael Keehl, Mello | Mihael Keehl/Near | Nate River
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	1. Polar

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has two possible endings, one sad and one happy. Chapter 4 is the sad ending and chapter 5 its epilogue, chapter 6 the happy ending.

It was a chilly, windy day in Winchester. Dark clouds hung low in the sky, threatening rain while the wind scuttled them across the countryside. Townsfolk stayed indoors, close to fireplaces and central heating systems, while those who had no choice but work outside finished their tasks quickly to escape the chill.

About five miles out of town was a tall and sprawling building built of brick, with an old tower and an antique bell that still sang every hour of every day. It was set on its own little parcel of land, which was dedicated mostly to open fields and playgrounds. Occasionally there would be a small patch set aside for a vegetable garden or a greenhouse, or even little groves of trees. For the most part, though, the surrounding area was wide and open.

All the locals knew about this building. They were also sure they knew its purpose and what it contained, but they only knew a portion. It was known as the Wammy House, or Wammy’s, and it was an orphanage. The locals found it odd for just how few orphans were ever adopted. Despite the many hopeful couples that would come to find a child, the majority would be turned away for failing to meet Wammy’s exacting standards. It seemed that when it came to their charges, Wammy’s was more than willing to do the raising themselves rather than risk questionable parents. Which was how any orphanage should conduct its business, but the likelihood of it happening? Fairly low.

In that way, Wammy House was strange to those who watched from the outside. Another oddness was the children themselves. To some, any orphans would appear to be alien, but the ones at Wammy’s were a special brand. The games they played could range from the everyday antics of soccer and tag, to quiet huddles involving bits of paper and calculators. If anyone ever spoke to one of the children, they would most likely find themselves struggling to keep up with an eight-year-olds explanation of theoretical physics. Whenever the children were brought into town on visits, their oddness only seemed to increase while in contrast to their ‘normal’ surroundings.

It was best, in the minds of the locals, to give the Wammy House and it occupants a wide berth.

What they didn’t know, what was kept very carefully from anyone’s knowledge, was that Wammy’s housed a very specific kind of orphan. They took in the most intelligent, intuitive, and driven children they could find with the express intent of nurturing those abilities to their full potential. There were children from all over the world, and most were never meant to leave Wammy’s until they could do so on their own feet.

All of this was done for the purpose of preparing a successor to the world’s greatest detective, L.

All of the children knew their situation, the reason they were there. It was Wammy’s policy to have complete honesty with their charges. Some of the children strove to be the best, to become the next greatest detective, while others were content to be receiving such special treatment and education. Of those who fought to rise to the top, two rose higher than any others.

Those two were polar opposites in every way: in appearance, in attitude, in habit, and in drive. The only thing they seemed to have in common were their intellects, which were high even for Wammy’s.

On this particularly cold day at Wammy’s almost every child was safely sequestered inside, along with their caregivers, who were glad of a relatively peaceful day. On the third floor in the west wing, in an all but forgotten little library, sat a pale boy in white pajamas, stacking the books around him and playing with plastic robots. The books were being leaned together, tented and balanced just so to create something between a cityscape and a rollercoaster. The robots populated the city of literature, or invaded it, or fought each other within it, all at the boy’s whim.

The boy’s name was Near, and he was Wammy’s top student, the child most likely to inherit the title of ‘World’s Greatest’. It was his habit to spend his days alone, playing with his toys and building structures out of whatever was available. Dice, cups, dominos, cards… he had a talent for stacking and balancing anything until his creations reached monstrous proportions. He wasn’t a very active boy; in fact he never participated in the physical games the other children of Wammy’s played, so he filled his days with quiet, solitary pastimes. It was a way to keep his hands busy and something superficial to occupy a part of his mind, freeing the rest to think on what it would.

He supposed that was why the other children had come to avoid him. Near never offered anything in the way of interaction himself, and was never interested when invited to their games. Antisocial by nature, it wasn’t surprising the others had taken to ignoring the small albino. Not that he minded, particularly. The others were all monotonous to him. They were all children, including Near, but there was not one spark of interest in any of them.

A slim volume of poetry was leaned against a primer of algebra.

In a strange way, Near was disappointed by his current situation at Wammy’s. It was true he was well taken care of, very much so, and his particular quirks of personality were catered to to an admirable degree, but he found that a good portion of his time was spent dissatisfied or frustrated. No one would ever know it to look at him. Near was quite proud of his poker faces, his emotionless façade, and held it strictly in place at all times. But despite that, he was dissatisfied.

Not with the fact that he was never included in games or held in higher esteem by his peers. If anything, he held his ‘fellows’ in a kind of contempt. No, he was disappointed by the fact that there _was_ no one at Wammy’s that could hold his attention or interest. He had long since come to terms with the idea that until he finally fulfilled his purpose and became a detective there would never be enough to fully engage his mind. Even the grueling curriculum they enforced at Wammy’s wasn’t enough for Near. Nevertheless, he immersed himself in the material, and then found secondary activities to take up any slack.

But he would have liked someone to talk to. Someone whose intellect was on a par with his own, so that any back and forth wouldn’t be entirely one sided. As much of a recluse as he was, Near wasn’t entirely immune from the desire for human interaction.

As things stood now, though, there were only two of people Near would classify as being worth his time and effort

A book of Nietzsche met a figure-drawing manual in an A-frame.

One of those people was L himself. A man he had never met, and had only heard speak once, through a voice scrambler on a computer. The man every child at Wammy’s worked so hard to emulate, the man who solved the world’s toughest cases without ever showing his face. Such was a man that could be considered worth the effort of a full conversation. But the likelihood of ever speaking to L – let alone ever meeting him – was right about nil. It would probably be years before he even heard the man’s altered voice again.

The other one was actually another orphan at Wammy’s. A very active boy, almost two years older than Near, and considered to be ‘number two’ at the orphanage, although barely. Like Near, and every other child at Wammy’s, he went by an alias. He was called Mello.

Blonde, athletic, somewhat feminine, extremely hot-headed, and capable of consuming enough chocolate in one day to make the fictional Willy Wonka to sit up and take notice, Mello came right after Near in the line of succession. Which was at least half the reason that the two of them didn’t get along. Mello seemed to see Near’s position of ‘number one’ as a personal insult, and worked himself into a frenzy to beat the younger boy in any way possible, to prove himself the most deserving candidate. Near had found it amusing in the beginning, and then intriguing that anyone would push themselves to such limits. Did the blonde want the title of L so badly, or was it just the challenge to be the best? Was there some underlying reason for his drive, to be seen as better, smarter, and best liked out of all others? Near didn’t know, nor was there any realistic way for him to find out. Every child’s life prior to Wammy’s was kept strictly confidential by the staff, and Mello would never answer any question Near might put to him directly. He would see it as an attack.

In Mello’s quest to beat Near, he had come to hate the younger boy for his constant ability to come out on top. This hatred had also interested Near for a time. It was an emotion that he did not have much experience with, and which he did not reciprocate. For Mello it manifested in different ways, from pulling night long sessions of studying, to pointedly ignoring Near, to knocking down his carefully constructed towers, to taunting and teasing him in front of others… a few times, it had even escalated to physical violence. The first time that had happened, the first time Near was struck by him, Mello’s antics had gone from interesting to sad. All of Mello’s frustrations seemed to stem from a simple, if rather large inferiority complex. While it was unknown to Near how he had first acquired it, its expressions became repetitive and predictable.

Thus the second, and the last person Near would consider a worthy person to converse with was taken off of the list. One who might as well be a ghost, and the other someone who would punch him as soon as look at him. Anyone else was simply not worth the air.

Near continued to build his sweeping metropolis of printed word in silence. On a cold day like today, even with all the children cooped up inside, everyone was quiet. There was a storm coming. It could be felt in the air, and the youth of Wammy’s were uncharacteristically subdued.

Eventually Near’s creation took up the entire floor and most of the tables. He stood carefully and surveyed his kingdom. After a moment of contemplation he decided it was severely under populated, and picked his way through the books to fetch more toys from his room on the second floor of the east wing.

For a while, the room was still, made even quieter by the absence of the little genius’s breathing. Towers and monuments of text stood in defiance of the brightly colored robots locked in deadly battle. But without the boy who built them, played with them, and imbued them with life, they just seemed to wait.

If they did wait, if books and toys are capable of waiting, they didn’t wait long. A few minutes after the albino boy in white pajamas left the room, a lean blonde all in black entered. He stopped in the doorway and looked over the miniature skyscrapers and robots laid out before him. It was an impressive sight, but the blonde took it in quickly before shouting into the silence, “Near! You little freak, are you in here?”

The books did not respond, and the toys only stared back with empty eyes.

The boy, Mello, snorted and stepped inside gingerly, avoiding the stacked books, and closed the door behind him. If Near had been in the room, he would have responded to Mello’s shout. The runt was never afraid of him, despite many reasons to be. The last time Mello had caught the younger boy alone, he had come away with a black eye and a bloody nose. The bruise had lasted quite awhile, for weeks it had been the only color to be found on the boy. But Near never avoided him, never showed any concern for his own safety.

Mello stepped around a particularly tall, corkscrewing tower made up of classics. The reason he was here, in fact, was to hunt Near down and use him for stress relief. The weather had him out of sorts. Even sneaking outside and taking advantage of an empty courtyard hadn’t made him feel better. Neither had hanging out with his best friend, Matt, who was so engrossed in his new game that the only kind weather likely to get his attention would be a tornado. So, with physical activity and hanging out with his friend both failing, all that was left was to pick a fight with Near. Except the white mutant wasn’t in his bedroom, his usual playrooms, or any of quiet corners he liked to hide in. As Mello had searched, he had only become more and more irritated, and now if he found his little rival he might give him another black eye just out of spite.

Mello passed a small arch out of poetry, a pair of transformers wrestling beneath it.

He had obviously found where Near had most recently been, so all he had to do now was wait for him to come back. Mello recognized some of the toys scattered around as being from Near’s personal collection, and he never left those lying around.

Mello absentmindedly took out a bar of chocolate from his pocket and began to nibble on it. There was one robot in particular he recognized, a small red and white with a clear plastic dome over its head. It was one that Near had had for years. It was carried around almost constantly by the albino, and had a special place on the nightstand by his bed.

Mello happened to know that little detail from the few times he had snuck into the boy’s room while its occupant had been playing elsewhere. Mello had told himself at the time that he had been searching through to find the secret to Near; his methods of study, the pastimes he didn’t allow others to see, the stash of super advanced textbooks that had his scores constantly outstripping Mello’s… but it had just been curiosity. He could admit that now, at least to himself. There had to be something more to Wammy’s top student than met the eye, Mello reasoned. There had to be more than quiet games, silent study, and a face about as expressive as the dominos he played with. Seriously, the kid was always by himself, playing some game or putting together blank puzzles, how were his scores so good? But no, his room always proved to be as plain and uncomplicated as Near himself. White walls, white furniture, white bedding, and white carpeting… the only color to be found was in his toys. As for books, there was only what was given out to every student, nothing especially advanced by their standards.

Another sweep of books led up to one of the tables like a highway. Mello took a large bite of chocolate and let it melt slowly on his tongue as he walked carefully through the balanced masterpiece.

It wasn’t as though Mello didn’t try to improve his scores. He would study for hours, he would eat healthy – in combination with chocolate – he got plenty of blood pumping exercise, and he got plenty of sleep, at least most nights. There was no reason why he should always be coming in second to Near. None. Especially when the little freak of nature spent all of _his_ time with useless projects like this one. What was the point in a city of books? Where was the mental stimulation that such a supposed genius would need? It was like Near was taunting him, saying, ‘Look, I can outdo you in everyway that counts, and I don’t even need to work for it. Sucks to be you.’

Mello was tempted to knock over a series of A-frames, setting off a chain reaction and destroying Near’s book paradise at the thought of being mocked. Indirectly or not, in riddles or to his face, it made his blood boil and his palms itch to think about it. But he restrained himself, a rare occurrence for the explosive adolescent. He knew that Near wasn’t mocking him, in any way. To do so would involve some kind of personal, emotional connection with another person. Such things were beyond his unfeeling rival. Near probably wouldn’t care if Mello did outdo him one day, because that would also involve emotion.

In a way, that annoyed Mello more than anything. If his opponent had been anyone, _anyone_ else, there would have been some kind of interaction between them on a personal level, friendly or otherwise. Mello’s shouting would be answered with something other than whispered responses. His challenges and threats met with more than a shrug. His punches replied with something more substantial than a pitying gaze. If the kid would just _fight back_ , or actively run away, even, that would be an improvement. As it was, Mello felt like he was fighting air, where no resistance was offered. He was left fighting nothing but himself, and it was maddening.

The chocoholic squatted down to read some of the titles on the books, to see if Near had incorporated some kind of scheme with subject matter as well as architecture. There was none that he could discern. He stood, and continued to study his rival’s work.

What was most frustrating, Mello was only just coming to realize, was that his entire world was coming to revolve around Near. The person he hated most in the entire world. His competition to the title of Greatest Detective. Almost every aspect of Mello’s life was now wrapped around that tiny, frail frame. It had once revolved around L, to studying the predecessor and his methods, but not anymore. If Mello studied halfway through the night, it was to get a better score than Near. If he took on an extra class, it was because Near was doing the same thing, and he couldn’t be allowed to know more than him. If Mello played sports especially hard, it was to have something Near couldn’t take away from him. Everything kept coming back to Near, Near, Near.

And it drove the blonde nuts. It was like the younger boy had achieved yet another victory by making himself the center of Mello’s universe. By making all other considerations secondary to him. And all without trying. All without caring.

As though Mello was nothing but a shadow. Something of no consequence, not even worth a glance as he was passed by, as Near climbed ever higher.

In another rare display of restraint, Mello managed to avoid knocking down the books by throwing his fury driven fist into one of the bookshelves. _No!_ He _was_ worth consideration! He was second in line of succession, and that was far from nothing!

Mello trembled as he tried to hem in the rage coursing through him. The chocolate bar he held had been crushed in a tightly balled fist. He could feel the tears of pure frustration forming in the corners of his eyes, and his belly ached as it cramped along with every other muscle in his body.

If L was the best in the world, and his successors came right after him, that made Near second and Mello third. The third greatest _in the world_ was worth more than a mere passing glance! He deserved more than to be thought of as just some kind of back-backup, a ‘Plan C’ if both L and Near somehow failed.

Mello smiled a little. If Near failed… if the little mutant slipped up, if he let himself slide just a bit, then Mello would be right there, ready to beat him at his own game. When L stepped down, and with Near gone, Mello would…

The boy’s grin slowly faded, and his body seemed to sag into the bookcase. His shoulders came forward, and his head bowed, throwing strands of straight blonde hair into his blue eyes. He felt as though he had been drenched with ice-cold water, his inner fire effectively doused. If Near was gone, finally beat by him, sick, or even dead, then what would become of Mello? Without his apathetic adversary, would he possess the same drive to be the best? With the little albino out of his life, would he still care enough to be great?

Without the center of his universe, would he even have purpose?

Mello let himself slide down to the floor. All of his energy was suddenly gone, and he hadn’t even gotten to yell at Near. Any irritation he had felt had just been sapped away. He didn’t care.

The despondent boy was in that position on the floor, at the back of the library, when the door was softly opened and in shuffled Near.

Mello froze. Now that his prey had finally come to him, he no longer wanted to pick a fight. But he couldn’t be seen to be running away. Near paused in the doorway, flat eyes looking into his makeshift playroom. Then, readjusting his grip on the armful of plastic toys he carried, he padded into the room in his white socks. Where Mello was sitting, he was concealed behind a couple of Near’s widest constructions, and Near did not see him. The albino, once again carefully picking a path through the delicately balanced books, began setting out his robots, planes, cars, and whatever else he had managed to bring among the towers.

Mello watched, keeping his breathing as slow and silent as possible, as Near populated his city with toys. He knew he should leave. He should stand and walk out, knocking down all he could on his way to the door, including Near, and get back to his room where he could sulk in peace. But he didn’t. He stayed put, as though clamped to the floor, and watched his hated enemy as he played his game. It felt a little… strange to watch Near this way. He had seen the boy play plenty of times, more often than not, in fact. But those had always been times when there had been others around, and he knew that he was being watched. Somehow, this was different. Not just the thrill of being secretive, although Mello would admit to a little of that. No, Near himself seemed subtly different. More at ease, the outline of his pale frame appeared softer. Even his breathing seemed easier in Mello’s ears.

Did Near hold himself to such restraints when others were around, Mello wondered? Did the perfect, emotionless puzzle solver have to keep himself in check to appear so flawless? Was his image just that, an image he projected, a false self? It was an interesting notion. If he did, then Mello’s knowledge of it was a tiny chink taken out of the albino’s armor, a place where he could gain a handhold. But if it was true, then it also begged the question of why? Why did Near feel the need to hold himself apart? _Did_ Near actually feel?

Mello continued to watch his enemy, the center of his universe, as he moved around the room, setting out toys and occasionally adjusting the books with a feather touch. At first he worried about when Near would make his way to the corner he was hiding in, but it became apparent that the boy was not interested in the very edges of his creation, but was concentrated on the center. So Mello watched, and Near played.

Minutes stretched on, gradually became one hour, and then two. Mello had managed to arrange himself into a more comfortable position without being heard, and was lying behind the wall of literature. Near was lying down at this point, too, on his stomach, playing with his toys and twirling his hair. It was amazing how long the boy could remain fascinated with such a simple activity. It had begun raining about an hour ago, and the sound of it beating against the old building was beginning to lull the older boy to sleep. He fought it, but combined with a fairly warm room, the smell of old books, and Near’s less than stimulating activities, it was working to overtake him.

He wondered why it was, as he finally succumbed to slumber, that he hadn’t been annoyed at being stuck in a room for so long with nothing to do but watch his archrival play pointless games. Normally, he hated to even be in close proximity with Near, but not this time. Except for that first thought of escape, Mello hadn’t had any motivation to leave the library that was Near’s private sanctuary. It had even proved relaxing to the consistently high-strung boy. It made no sense, and needed to be thought out carefully. Later…

Near looked up when the sound of soft snores came drifting out from the back of the library. Untangling himself from his nest of toys, he stood and made his way to Mello’s corner and looked over the stacks that had concealed him. Mello was curled up on one side, facing out so he could watch Near, the remains of a chocolate bar in one hand, and the evidence that he had been eating it at one corner of his mouth. The black clothes were rumpled, his feet were bare and dirty, and his rosary had gathered into a small knot of red and black beads at his throat. Near permitted himself the tiniest ghost of a smile. Mello made such a poor spy. But that wasn’t surprising, in light of his personality and passionate nature. The boy was intelligent, there was no denying, but was just not built for anything that required a great amount of patience. In fact, it was unusual Mello had even stayed as quiet as he had for so long.

Almost as soon as Near had re-entered the library, he had known that Mello was there. The smell of the older boy’s chocolate was strong and unmistakable, and a tiny piece of wrapper that had fallen on the floor had settled the issue. The question of whether he had still been in the room had been answered by muted noises of breathing and shifting that had come from his hiding place. Curious as to what Mello wanted, but not willing to show it, Near acted as though he knew nothing of his presence and continued with his project. Knowing Mello, it would only be a matter of time before he came charging out, demanding something or other, or berating him for a recent test score.

But he never did. It was odd. And Near didn’t think Mello’s spying had anything to do with planned revenge, either. It was all too haphazard for that.

It was all very strange, very out of character for Mello, the fiery, impulsive boy. Even more so was falling asleep in the presence of his ‘enemy’. It was true that Mello had nothing whatever to fear from Near; even if the younger boy wished to cause harm, he wasn’t exactly best suited to carry it out. But Mello would still perceive a threat. To fall asleep… was a definite breach of character. It would require some thought.

Carefully, Near reached down over the books and caught a lock of yellow hair that had fallen across Mello’s face. He wound it loosely around one finger, as he often did with his own white mane, before tucking it gently behind one ear. _Silly Mello._

Near turned away from the dozing blonde and looked around the room, considering his options. Deciding, he moved around the room as silently as his socked feet would allow him, gathering together his personal toys to return to his room. The rest could wait for later, for when Mello had woken and left again, as could the task of re-shelving all of the books.

Before he left, Near left one of his own robots by the slumbering Mello. He doubted Mello would damage it, and he felt that some sign of gratitude was due for the peaceful afternoon. Slightly confusing, but peaceful.

When Mello woke up, he would find a domed, red and white robot watching over him.


	2. Why?

It was a brighter day today than it had been for the past week at Wammy’s. The sky was clear, and while the air held the promise of a winter not far from the door, it was still warm enough to justify wearing the lightest of jackets. It was also a fairly peaceful day within the orphanage. That could have been due to the occupants’ natural tendencies to be quiet and reflective, or to some sense of the laidback that came with the season… but mostly it was due to the fact that the majority of the children were gone. It was a ‘field day’, when all of the orphans were allowed to go into town – the younger ones under the watchful eyes of caregivers – to shop, visit the local theater, or whatever it was that tickled their fancy.

It wasn’t a requirement that every child join in on the outing, however, and several had opted to stay at the orphanage. Only a few, because the weather wouldn’t remain so fine for long, and the youngsters knew it. It was best to get in as much playtime as possible while the weather was still cooperative.

Near was one of those that stayed, which wasn’t too surprising. He rarely left the building to even play in the courtyard; it was only once in a blue moon when he would venture into town with the others. It was even less likely for him to do so _because_ the weather was so clear. His genetics would have him burn to a crisp in the harsh sunlight. By personal preference and common sense, Near spent a good portion of his time indoors.

Another boy who had decided to stay this time around was Mello. This was more unusual, as Mello was the kind of person who would hit every shop in town – most notably the sweet shops – spending his pocket money like it was burning a hole in his wallet. He was even known to sneak out some nights and actually bicycle the five miles into town to troll the nighttime streets. He didn’t do it often, because the nighttime streets of Winchester weren’t usually exciting enough to justify the trouble. It was more the thrill of rule breaking that Mello wanted.

And today he had not gone with the rest into town. A legitimate opportunity to visit every sweet shop, video store and record store to stock up on his vices, and he passed it up. Matt, his closest friend and gamer extraordinaire, had made a show of checking him for a fever before the blonde had threatened to pummel him. Matt had grinned and said that if Mello could still menace decently he couldn’t be too sick, and had tripped off with the others, planning out his attack on the local arcades.

Mello watched them all go distractedly. He would have liked to go, his candy supply was running dangerously low, and everyone would suffer if he couldn’t get his chocolate fix. But he had a reason for wanting to stay at Wammy’s, and more specifically, when almost everyone else was gone.

It had been two weeks since Mello had found Near’s little hiding place in the library. Two weeks, and he was still confused by it all. Why he had froze up. Why, or rather, how, he had fallen asleep with Near in the room. Near’s attitude as he had played with his toys… Mello had known the kid for years, which amounted to a good portion of both of their lives, and he had never seen what could be called a real expression on his face. It was always blank, like a porcelain doll. But that day in the library, when he had thought no one was watching, Mello was almost sure he had seen the albino smile softly once or twice.

Near, smiling. Like a normal kid with feelings and cares and likes, not like a cold, calculating little bastard; which was the face Mello had come to know. The concept of a feeling Near was… unsettling.

Even more unsettling had been what met Mello’s eyes as he opened them after his nap. Near was gone – which was something of a relief – most of the toys were gone, and right by his head was Near’s favorite red and white robot.

Mello had stared at it for some time before he sat up and took it in his hand. He had tried to reason out what had happened after he fell asleep, and while the ‘what’ seemed obvious, the ‘why’ made no sense.

Clearly, after falling asleep Near had discovered him somehow, perhaps Mello had made some sound alerting him to an intruder. He had found Mello hiding at the back of the library and realized that he had been watched for some time. Deciding to leave Mello to sleep as his safest option, he had quietly gathered his toys and left the library.

All except for his favorite. Which he left with Mello. Left in such a way that Mello would know that Near had found him, and had deduced all.

Why would he do that? That question had been driving Mello up the wall the past two weeks. Why hadn’t Near just left, and let Mello believe that his spying had gone unnoticed? Why announce to him that he knew he had been watched, and yet not confront him about it? For how small Near was, and for how much Mello would bully him, he wasn’t a coward. He would have confronted Mello face to face had he wanted to. So why hadn’t he?

Why did he leave his most prized toy in the hands of his enemy? Was it some kind of challenge, or goad? It couldn’t be some sort of friendly gesture. Mello hated Near, and Near knew it. What was more, the albino bordered on the neurotic when it came to his toys. There was no way that he would just leave one with Mello without good reason. It had to be a challenge of some kind. But what was it?

Mello had wracked his brain to aching in the library before he realized that it had grown dark outside, and he had missed dinner hour. He’d wandered back to his room, still halfway in a doze, and only realized once he was sitting on the edge of his bed that he was still holding onto Near’s robot. He didn’t want to keep it, but it was late, and he was still tired after his brief nap. He’d put the toy on his bedside table and had fallen asleep again almost immediately.

The next morning he had awoken to the same problem of why the robot had been left with him, and the fun new conundrum of how to return it. He couldn’t keep it – he _wouldn’t_ keep it – but the idea of handing it back to Near in person left a bad taste in his mouth. So did the thought of sneaking into the boy’s room and leaving it for him to find. Deliberately leave evidence that Mello had been in Near’s room? No, thank you. It was more than enough being caught at spying once.

Without changing into a fresh set of clothes, Mello had grabbed up the robot and made a beeline for the library. If returning it directly wasn’t an option, then he’d leave it where Near would find it, and pretend like he had never taken it. It’d been a mistake, anyway. Why did Near even need to know about it?

Mello had made it to the library a little after 7am and slightly out of breath, only to discover that the few remaining toys of the night before had been removed, and the city of books was neatly put away on the shelves. Near had already been back and cleared his mess. It was another of his little quirks to clean up after himself rather than let someone else do it. He would have noticed the absence of a certain red and white with a plastic dome.

And so Mello had remained in his state of confusion for two whole days, both over his little rival’s motives and on how to return said rival’s precious plaything, before he noticed something rather startling.

He was being followed.

—•—

Near sat on the floor of one of the first floor game rooms, one knee brought up close to his chest, the other tucked carefully underneath him, building a tower out of poker cards. The first three attempts he had made had failed abysmally, but the fourth seemed to be when Near got a good feel for the cards. How they wanted to stack, that degree of pressure in the fingertips while settling the cards that gave them stability without setting them tumbling to earth, the angle of the floor… there was a lot to take into consideration when making card towers. The fact that this was his fourth try, and not his second, was a reflection of his state of mind.

This wasn’t one of his favorite game rooms. He usually avoided it because of how popular, and therefore crowded it normally was. It boasted several televisions, each with their own game consol and dozens of games, a miniature pool table, an air hockey table, a ping-pong table… At any one time this room held dozens of orphans, all clamoring for the games or each other’s attention. All of which Near found to be something of a stimulus overload. While he was capable of taking in a lot of information all at once, twenty or more adolescents jabbering at each other hardly counted as ‘information’, per se.

But he’d been learning to tolerate it, to find the quietest seat available and tune out most of what went on around him. He had to, if he were to carry out his venture.

After leaving the sleeping Mello in the library two weeks ago, Near had considered this new situation carefully. The first question of why Mello had come to the library had been simple enough to answer: He had been looking for Near. Mello wasn’t likely to go searching through obscure libraries for anything else. The ‘why’ of Mello’s search was a little more ambiguous, but every answer followed a common theme: To confront Near over some slight. What that slight might have been, and whether or not it had all just been in Mello’s mind was moot at this point.

To Mello, it would have been obvious by the toys and the book utopia that he had found Near’s ‘playroom’, and so he had stayed to wait for him.

And from there, things became muddled to the young albino. When he had returned to the library from his brief foray for more toys, he had known almost immediately that Mello was there, in hiding. And as Near gave no indication that he knew Mello was there, Mello had continued to hide. Presumably, watching Near as he played.

The question was why? Why had Mello watched him? Near didn’t think that it had been planned, because if it were, Mello would have picked a better hiding place than behind a stack of books. He probably would have also refrained from eating his signature, and aromatic, chocolate in a closed space. If it weren’t planned, then it had to have been spontaneous; perhaps even an opportunity stumbled on by accident. It was also possible, though not very likely, that Mello had never intended to confront Near in the first place, and had just found the library while Near was out. Deciding to observe the city of literature, he had lingered too long and was still present when Near came back. If that was the case, then why had Mello felt the need to hide? Could it be embarrassment from admiring his ‘enemy’s’ creation? That seemed probable. Mello seemed to find a kind of pleasure in fashioning the two of them to be mortal enemies, despite Near’s own passivity. To show an interest in said mortal enemy, if even only through his hobbies, would be unacceptable.

But even with that scenario, Mello hiding was not logical. It would have been much more in Mello’s style to bluster and pretend he had meant to confront Near when he returned. Mello could be a fairly good actor when he had a mind to. But he had stayed put. For over two hours, as Near played with his toys in silence. Near knew, or thought he knew, Mello well. He didn’t _do_ low stimulation and silence.

The ace of diamonds was leaned against a three of the same suit.

In the end, Near probably would have written the whole incident off as one of those random oddities that popped up once in awhile in a house full of children and the prepubescent. Mello in particular was not the most logical person around, despite his intelligence. Near couldn’t be expected to follow every one of the boy’s thought processes. He could only imagine what would happen to his own brain if he tried.

But then Mello had taken his robot. His red and white robot he had had with him since his very first day at Wammy’s, and which he had left to watch over Mello as he slept. When Near had awoken the next day at dawn, as was his habit, and gone to the library to clean up the remnants of his game, he had discovered that not only was the chocoholic blonde missing, but so was his favorite toy.

At the time he had done nothing but sigh resignedly and finish re-shelving the books. Whatever Mello’s motive might have been the day before in observing him, he now had a good lever for Near. He could hold that particular toy over Near’s head like bait, and he knew it. Undoubtedly an unexpected gift for Mello, provided by Near himself.

Mello must have been ecstatic when he woke and saw his new piece of blackmail staring at him.

Near had finished in the library and headed to one of the second floor shower rooms to clean up before the rest of the orphanage woke up, wondering when Mello would decide to ‘offer’ Near’s robot back, and what he would want for it.

The day progressed as they normally did on a weekend: slowly and without much direction. Near had seen Mello at breakfast and had waited patiently for the crowing to begin at any time. But breakfast had passed, as had the morning of play and study, lunch, afternoon activities, and finally dinner, and Mello hadn’t said one word to Near. In fact, the blonde almost seemed to be avoiding him. He would avert his gaze whenever the younger boy hove into view, and left any room Near also happened to be in as soon as he could.

What was he thinking? Did he think that by holding Near’s robot as hostage and refusing to speak to him, he would make Near come to _him_ to ask for it back? … He was almost right. It was his favorite, after all. But Near could hold out. It was just a matter of patience, and he had plenty of that.

The next day Near had followed Mello a little, watching for any hint that he was ready to extort him with the toy. Again, the day passed with no sign. As had the next, and the next.

Near was willing to admit, privately, to being somewhat frustrated by the fifth day, and still with no return of the red and white in view. Why was Mello holding onto it? Where was the gain in keeping Near’s toys? Was it some half-baked conception of torture? It was embarrassing to think that it was actually working a little.

Near paused in his building as he thought back to that day, about eight days ago now, five days after the library. It was the day Near noticed something peculiar in Mello’s behavior, which only seemed to be becoming more erratic every day.

—•—

Mello started on the third floor this time in his search for Near. He hadn’t gone hunting for the boy since the day he had found him in the library, but then, he hadn’t needed to. The colorless freak had been following around almost constantly since that day. It was creepy the way he would watch from his corners. Whenever Mello ‘happened’ to look away from whatever he was doing to check where Near was, he would always be off to one side, playing or reading. And as soon as Mello looked away again, he could feel those wide, empty eyes staring at him. Even creepier was on the third day, when he started showing up in rooms before Mello got there.

Mello could guess why Near was following him. He wanted his toy back, but didn’t want to ask for it face to face. That seemed strange to Mello. It’s not like Near was shy. He wasn’t terribly forthright, but if he wanted something then he should have no trouble asking for it. Was he just being cautious because it was his favorite toy, and it was Mello who had it? Did he think that Mello would damage it if he approached him so directly? That seemed possible, but if it were so, then why hadn’t he tried to sneak into Mello’s room and steal it back?

Mello hesitated slightly when he came to the library in the west wing. This was where all the trouble had started. What were the odds that Near would be in this room again, now that Mello was searching for him?

He opened the door quietly, and almost sighed with relief when he saw all the books on their shelves, and no boy in white pajamas sitting in the middle of the floor.

Mello stood in the doorway to the library, leaning against the frame, as he thought about the last few days.

Near’s constant but silent presence had been eating at him, that and the stupid plastic toy that now stood on _his_ bedside table. He wanted to give it back, to get rid of the damn thing, but couldn’t stomach any scenario involving a return. He wanted to yell at Near, to shake the shit out of him and tell him to just leave him alone. He wanted to hit the little freak for bothering him for two weeks straight by just _being_ there.

He never did, though. He could never seem to get up the gumption to tell Near off, which had never been a problem before. Whenever he saw the younger boy, off in his corner and playing his games, but sneaking looks at Mello’s back, the blonde’s skin started to heat up and crawl, and his gut would cramp painfully. It was so _irritating_. How easy would it be to walk over to him and just pick a fight? As easy as breathing, at least before. Now, though, something prevented him. That same feeling of being nailed to the floor that had kept him still in the library kept him still now, made him keep his seat and let the boy watch him.

When Mello had tried to sort out the whys of his inaction before, he had put it down to a kind of subconscious fascination with the role reversal. After all, _he_ was usually the one following Near, although not as literally as Near was following him, and it was interesting to be an object of interest to Near, the boy without emotion or desire. It was almost a source of pride for the continually outdone blonde.

The center of Mello’s universe was orbiting him for once.

That had been only five days after the library. It was now thirteen, and any fascination, subconscious or otherwise, should have worn off by now. But he was still immobile to Near. Or had been.

Almost every other orphan was out of Wammy’s on the field day, and the few who remained besides Near and himself were laying low due to the tension that had built up over the weeks. Without dozens of eyes and ears around, Mello finally felt like he could move again, like the absence of witnesses made a confrontation easier. Which only added to his bubbling, and now freed irritation. He wouldn’t question it though; there had been enough of that. Now that he could, he would act.

Mello slammed the door to the library behind him and continued his search. It was time to confront the source of his frustration.

—•—

The ace of spades was leaned against the three of clubs, followed by the five of hearts and the two of diamonds.

Near paused in his stacking to look over the growing tower. It was about thirty A-frames across and two layers deep now, and he was working on the fifth level. Fairly small by his standards, but coming along nicely. At least he was still on his fourth attempt, and hadn’t made any more slips to send it all crashing down. He picked up another pair of cards and began lining them up.

Mello’s behavior had become more and more erratic over the past few days, in a subtle sort of way. Well, subtle for Mello. The older boy knew he was being followed, of that Near was positive. He could hardly fail to notice it, since Near felt no reason to be circumspect. It obviously upset the boy that his hated rival was watching him, and yet he did nothing to correct it. Not a word, not a move, hardly even anything in the way of a cross look. That in itself was enough to label his behavior as ‘erratic’.

Then, by about the fifth day, things escalated slightly. Mello began avoiding his favorite haunts. Not excessively, but noticeably. Then, about the ninth day, whenever Near was in the same room as Mello, the blonde would leave the room before finishing whatever activity he was engaged in.

Near had been so shocked the first time he saw it happen he had almost dropped the puzzle he had balanced on one knee. Anyone who knew Mello would tell you that the fiery boy did _not_ back down, from anything. For him to retreat from a fight would be like if he suddenly decided to give up chocolate, or if Near dyed his hair green. It just wouldn’t happen.

But it had. And from everything Near could discern, _he_ had been the cause of this aberration. Of all the people to make Mello withdraw, Near was probably the least likely candidate.

Such an extreme deviation by Mello had made Near begin to question his own actions. For as oddly as Mello was acting, wasn’t he behaving just as out of character? It wasn’t like himself to follow people around, observing them. It wasn’t even like him to show an interest in other people. So Mello had been a little strange in keeping his robot, the easiest way to solve all the mystery would be to just ask for it back. Then, even if Near didn’t receive his toy, he would have a good idea by Mello’s response what was going on in his chocolate addled head.

By now, though, the return of his robot was almost a secondary consideration. Watching Mello had somehow become the end in and of itself. Near was interested in Mello’s daily activities. What they were, how he enjoyed them, who he enjoyed them with… Watching a life that was so different from his own, and yet so close to his, wrapped up in the same strings of fate… It made Near much more introspective than he would have thought possible.

Near wondered, if by a slight change in his past, would he be more like Mello now? With friends and interactions making up the majority of his day? Near held no illusions that he could have been comparable to Mello in intensity, but if he had been in the habit of displaying emotion all his life, so they weren’t so muted now, then what? Would he still be the top student? Would it have mattered to him? With an opponent that reacted to his jibes and baiting, would Mello have hated him as much as he did now, or would they have been friends?

The Jack of spades met the three of hearts as the first pair on the sixth level.

Such considerations were useless, really. It didn’t matter what might have been, since all he could act on was what _was_.

It didn’t stop him from thinking about it, though.

The Jack of clubs was coming toward the ace of hearts when the door was flung open and in walked Mello, a familiar look of determination set across his angular features.

—•—

Near managed not to flinch at Mello’s dramatic entrance. He had been around the blonde enough years to have plenty of practice not reacting to him. So instead of jumping at the bang made by the door as it hit the wall behind it, he looked up briefly, and then returned to his cards. Mello scowled fiercely at the younger boy’s coolness. Would it kill him to act human for once?

Mello stalked into the deserted game room and stopped in front of Near, on the opposite side of his growing card monument. “Of course you’d be on the ground floor,” he spat.

“Mello,” Near said by way of greeting, without looking up again.

The older boy’s frown deepened. Near hadn’t taken the bait and asked what he had meant. He never did, and it was as annoying as ever… but somehow reassuring in the familiarity. He glared at the top of Near’s bowed head as the boy continued to work with his cards, hoping the sheer intensity of it would make him look up. The ploy failed, however, as Near ignored Mello completely.

Finally, Mello leaned over the cards, careful to avoid knocking any down, and growled at the albino, “Why are you following me around, you little twit?”

Still, the younger orphan did not look up as he spoke, “I believe that I was here before Mello. I could say that Mello is following me.”

“You know what I mean,” Mello snapped. “Why is it that you’re everywhere that I am? You’ve never even been _in_ some of these rooms before, and now you’re there all the time. Don’t you have anything better to do than stalk me?”

Near’s hands never paused or faltered over the cards as the second depth was started on the sixth level. After so many days of Mello behaving peculiar, it was almost reassuring to have the blonde giving him an earful again. In his usual monotone he replied, “Mello can see that I am in the process of constructing a card tower. It is what I would prefer to be doing.”

Mello straightened again and watched for a minute as Near steadily built. The boy’s hands were ivory pale, as was the rest of him, his fingers long and slender. Every A-frame they set up were exactly the same size and distance apart. There was no sign of unsteadiness in any of those already standing, or in Near’s hands as they hovered and leaned the next pair against each other delicately. That was Near’s character all the way through. Calm, measured, never concerned he would upset the balance of things because he knew his hands were steady.

_Well, let’s see if I can throw him off a little,_ Mello thought.

“Why make things that are so easy to break?” Mello asked, hoping the change in subject and tone would do the trick. “How many hours of work do you put into these things, and they can be destroyed in a second? You’ll have nothing to show for it in the end.”

Mello was pleased as Near hesitated halfway through his speech, and even more when he put his cards down and began twirling his hair thoughtfully. Mello waited as the other boy worked out his response, knowing how careful he was about everything he said. Finally, a low murmur came from the hunched figure.

“That’s why.”

The blonde frowned anew and tilted his head in puzzlement. Such a broad statement was unlike Near, but there was more to come.

“Many aspects of life are like that,” Near kept his gaze down, kept twirling his hair loosely. “You could spend years at a task, perfecting every detail to your satisfaction, only to have it all swept away by a stray word or incautious action. It’s all very fragile, and that’s what makes it worthwhile.” Near paused again, then said even lower than before, “We’re the same way.”

Near finally looked up, locking his dark eyes with the icy blues of a dumbfounded Mello. “The entire reason we are here, most of us, anyway, is because we may prove useful to our custodians sometime in the future. That’s all. Countless events could take place between now and that future to render us unneeded or superfluous. We would amount to nothing more than any other orphan with no place in the world.”

Mello had recovered a little while Near had been speaking, and managed to sneer a little as he replied, “Garrulous today, aren’t you? Are you saying that if we weren’t so intelligent, Roger and the rest would throw us out because we weren’t useful anymore?”

Near’s eyes didn’t turn away or blink. “No. We never would have been brought here if we hadn’t proved exceptional in some way or other. Nor do I think that we would be turned out if our situation changed significantly. But our futures, what we had worked for most of our lives, would no longer be so clear for us.”

Mello smirked. He faced that probability every time Near pulled out in front of him on scores. It was nothing new to him. “Whatever,” he said, “it’s not like we _need_ Wammy’s to lay out our futures for us. We’ll still be smart, no matter what happens. We can make our own way in the world.”

“For those of us with the desire to, that is certainly an option.”

Mello blinked at the albino, “You mean you don’t have that desire?”

Near finally looked away, eyes averted to one of the poster-covered walls of the game room. “Yes.”

Mello marveled at the rare insight he’d just received. Was that why Near worked to stay on top? Because he knew that if a path wasn’t handed to him ready-made he would have no drive to forge one for himself, and therefore have no place? An interesting thought, for later. Now was the time for his original purpose in coming.

He reached over the cards and grabbed Near’s shoulder, twisting him around until those wide, empty eyes were back on his. With as much force as he could manage without actually yelling in the boy’s face, he grated out, “ _Why are you following me?_ ”

Near didn’t flinch, either from Mello’s rough touch or from his tone, but simply stared back. “Why does Mello care?”

It was Mello’s turn to pause. Why _did_ he care? Why couldn’t he just ignore his unwanted, pale shadow, or tell him to get lost? Why had this gone on for so long?

He shook himself mentally. Now was not the time to be sidetracked. “Just answer the question, Near!” He gave the shoulder in his grip a quick shake. “Is this some kind of revenge or something?”

Near seemed to focus in on Mello a little more, to lean forward into Mello’s hand the merest fraction. “Revenge for what, exactly?”

“For whe- For anything!” Mello had caught himself before he had mentioned the library. There was no real reason not to mention it, they were both perfectly aware of it, but Mello couldn’t quite bring himself to admit to it out loud.

Near seemed to want to hear him say it, though, and sat back again almost imperceptibly when Mello failed to do so. “It’s not revenge, Mello.”

The blonde let go of the white clothed shoulder with a small shove. “What is it, then?”

Near’s hand, which had fallen by his side when he had been grabbed, returned to his hair. “I thought it would be prudent to observe Mello.”

“Observe me,” Mello rolled the words off his tongue distastefully. “So I’m a display specimen now. Why?”

Near shrugged and looked back at his card tower, as though he was losing interest in the conversation. “There are many things about Mello that I do not fully understand. Since we are not on the best of speaking terms, the most viable course of action seemed to be to watch, without approaching Mello. And then to draw conclusions based on those observations.”

Mello managed, with a little difficulty, to not show any of the bewilderment he felt. He covered with a head toss. “Tch. And what have you come up with so far?”

“That is my own business.”

“Dammit, Near!”

“Do you still have my robot?”

Mello choked back another shout at the sudden change of subject. He was asking for his robot directly? After two weeks of letting Mello hold onto it? And did Near just say ‘ _you_ ’?

Mello ground his teeth together in frustration. “Yes.”

The younger boy looked up at his rival, the intensity of his agate eyes, such as it was, dying down. “Does Mello intend to return it?”

Mello’s own eyes seemed to burn with an icy flame as he stared at the albino before him with renewed dislike. “Gladly,” he bit the word off sharply. “The creepy little thing reminds me of you. I’ll be glad to have it gone!”

To anyone who was unfamiliar with Near, they would not have noticed any change in his expression. But Mello had known him for years, and had learned to interpret the tiniest of signs as full expressions. A change in his breathing pattern, the rate of his pulse, which could easily be seen at his throat, a shift of body weight, even the dilation or contraction of his oversized pupils gave clues to those who knew how to read them. What Mello saw in response to his careless jibe was a grimace, almost a flinch.

Stunned, he turned away from the boy quickly and stalked back out the door to hide his own expression. “I’ll get it right now,” he tossed back over his shoulder, and made his way to his room.

—•—

Near watched as Mello left the game room to retrieve the stray toy, at last. Now things could return to normal. Near would have his favorite robot, Mello would return to his normal demeanor, and all the confusion of the last couple of weeks would be forgotten.

But Near felt uncomfortable as he began to stack cards once again. While talking to Mello about his views on what made something worthwhile, he had had a tiny insight. Miniscule, really, not a full thought and barely a feeling, but it was impossible to ignore now that Near’s attention had been brought to it. The more he considered it, the more ludicrous it seemed, and yet it fit very well. This… interest he had had in Mello the past weeks could be more than simple interest… Mello’s parting shot about Near’s ‘creepy’ appearance had stung more than it should, as well, offering more evidence to a newfound theory.

The albino’s hands began to shake as the force of his realization took hold. He still couldn’t quite bring himself to think it out fully, as though putting it into words, even in the privacy of his own mind, would make it more real. The awareness of it was there, though, and that was enough.

A five of spades, trembling slightly in Near’s fingers, came down with too much force, and Near’s tower collapsed. Near surveyed the wreckage without expression. What was it he had just said to Mello? ‘It’s very fragile, and that’s what makes it worthwhile.’

Gathering the fallen cards, Near prepared to start again.


	3. Hint

Near sat in the middle of his white comforter, at the center of his white room, staring at one of the few traces of color that was to be found. His robot, which had been returned by Mello five days before, stared back blankly. If there had been a contest between the two, it would only be by a small margin that the toy would win, for the boy’s blinks could be timed by minutes.

It could also be counted by a few handfuls, the number of times he had left his room in those five days since getting back his favorite toy, and those had only been to use the bathroom down the hall. Lessons he took in his room, those were easy enough to arrange with the teachers, and meals were brought up to him as well. Sometimes the lengths Wammy’s went to to keep its wards happy was extremely convenient.

The young albino was known to be a recluse, but it wasn’t often he would shut himself up in a single room at such a long stretch. The truth was, Near was avoiding Mello, and had been since his ‘light bulb moment’. All the mystery of why he had felt compelled to follow, to watch, and to be close to the older boy had suddenly and frighteningly resolved itself with one tiny revelation:

He cared for Mello. Cared for him a great deal.

Near still refused to put a stronger name to it. ‘Care’ was enough. The other labels that floated through his head were discarded; attraction, affection… love. No, those were all too much. They came prepackaged with too many connotations for Near to justify using them.

Regardless of what he called it, it put everything into place for Near, at least as far as his own actions went. And considering Mello’s behavior – the library, his apathy towards Near for more than two weeks, his robot – it wasn’t inconceivable that Mello felt the same way about him. In fact, it seemed likely.

In the privacy of his room, Near allowed himself a grimace. There was no one to see it other than his toys.

Of all the people, why _Mello_? There couldn’t be anyone less like him, or less able to be anything like him. Not to mention the fact that Mello was a _boy_. Factor that in as another complication. And even if Mello did feel the same way for Near of some level, the likelihood of his getting over his own jealousy and ego to realize it was very slim.

It was too much for Near. It was all too illogical, and couldn’t be put into neat, organized places in his mind. He wasn’t used to so much emotion, and what he was feeling now was completely foreign to him. It was like he was a bird, suddenly being thrust into the sea and being told to learn how to swim.

Hence his current self-imposed isolation. He didn’t want to see Mello for a while. After two weeks of being around him almost constantly, the thought of seeing him at all right now made him a little jumpy. Mello was probably glad to have him out of sight, anyway.

It hadn’t helped his confusion much, however. The first couple of days, for example, his robot managed to retain Mello’s scent. There was the smell of chocolate – of course – and the faint odors of sweat, grass, and… something else, which Near realized must be Mello’s own particular aroma. It didn’t really smell like anything except… Mello.

That had bothered Near for a while. Did everyone have his or her own smell, he wondered, that didn’t resemble anything else? He supposed they must, since animals used odors for identification. But how had he come to know Mello’s well enough to recognize it? He couldn’t remember having ever noticed it before.

He tried to call up the scent of the other children at the orphanage. If he somehow knew what Mello smelt like, then he should at least have an idea of anyone else he shared a roof with.

It was a bizarre exercise, thinking of what other people smelt like. But it had taken Near’s mind off of things for a while, so he had seized it.

Eventually the smell had worn off, and Near was left in his blank room with his games and toys, hoping separation would erase what close contact had apparently stirred up. That was one of two theories the boy had as to why he had developed this… caring for Mello in the first place. By putting himself into contact with Mello on a daily basis for hours at a time, he had been closer to him than he had to anyone else. Add to that already budding signs of puberty and…

The other theory he had stemmed from Mello himself. In his quest to outdo Near, Mello had developed what could only be called – and what Near _did_ call – an obsession. An obsession with being the best and coming out on top, yes, but in the end that came to center around Near. Near had been well aware of it, and thought that it hadn’t affected him; but had it? Had he come to appreciate it, to like that kind of attention without realizing it? And had he come to like the one giving him that attention in the same way? There was that old saying that obsession equaled love, or that love was an obsession. Apparently it worked both ways, to the one with the fixation and the object of their attentions.

The isolation wasn’t helping, either. Even after Mello’s fragrance had ceased to haunt Near’s room, the albino couldn’t stop thinking about him. If he studied, he wondered how well Mello was grasping the material, or how hard he was studying to beat him. If he sat down to play with his dominoes or solve a blank puzzle, he would remember the innumerable times Mello had knocked down, kicked over, thrown, or just made fun of Near’s childish hobbies. If he looked out his curtained windows, he would think of the sports that Mello loved to play in a sun Near could never enjoy. If he even thought about his own isolation, he would wonder if Mello had noticed his absence, and how the blonde felt about it.

It was ridiculous. Somehow Mello’s obsession had transferred to become Near’s.

What made it all truly unbearable was that there was no one he felt he could turn to for advice. Talking to Roger or any of the teachers was out. The main problem seemed to be the ‘who’ of the matter rather than the ‘what’, and Near didn’t feel like sharing that particular detail with his elders. He wasn’t close to enough to any of the children at Wammy’s to discuss something so delicate. The only one Near might have considered was Matt, number three in the line of succession and gaming nut. While the two of them weren’t close, Matt never seemed to mind Near’s company the way the others did. He didn’t seem to mind anything, actually. The boy was almost torpid sometimes. However, he was Mello’s best friend, and even if Matt didn’t repeat anything to him directly, the blonde was likely to find everything out.

The thought of speaking with L, the great predecessor himself, had occurred to Near, but he had discarded it almost immediately. In the first place, L was currently working several important cases, and it wouldn’t do to interrupt him over something comparatively minor. Secondly, he had no way to contact him. When L wanted to speak with the Wammy children, _he_ made the connection, not the other way around. And third, even if he could contact him, Near wasn’t sure he felt comfortable discussing the problem with the man. He’d only ever heard L speak once, and he had a major say in Near’s future. What if he wasn’t understanding? What would become of Near? L was the world’s greatest detective, and would most likely approach it all rationally, the way he did any other riddle, but Near couldn’t know for sure. It was too much of a risk.

Which left, for outside sources to speak with, one person. Mello.

Ironically, he might have been Near’s best choice to ask advice from, their rivalry and Mello’s own key position in the situation aside. They were about the same age, with Mello a little his elder, and in theory more experienced. In ranking they were practically side-by-side, so Mello would understand any potential problem stemming from that. And Mello was passionate, where Near was practically void. If anyone knew how to interpret and deal with emotion, it was Mello. Although Mello’s particular method of dealing with emotion always tended to be rather impetuous for Near’s tastes.

_Why did it have to be Mello?_

If it had been _anyone_ else there would have been some logical way to approach it. But throw in that temperamental, chocoholic blonde into any mix and logic went straight out the window.

Near looked around his room. It was obvious that isolation wasn’t the answer. Five days was long enough to determine that much, at least.

The boy got off his bed a trifle stiffly and shuffled to his door. Maybe being out in the commotion of the rest of the house would provide some inspiration.

—•—

Mello sat curled up in the corner of one of the sofas in the first floor gaming room, a textbook of trigonometry propped on his knees. Slouched in the other corner was his redheaded friend Matt, totally enthralled in his most recent video game.

The game room was amazingly quiet today. Besides the two friends, there were only six other children using the various games. The reason being, it was almost time for the last exams before their winter break, and everyone was studying hard for it.

Which was why Mello had a textbook with him. It wouldn’t do, as the exams crept closer, to let his grades slip now. Wherever he went, he had his nose jammed in some book or other. The rest of the children knew better than to disturb him when he was in that state and gave him a wide berth. If any of them had looked closely, though, they would have seen that Mello’s eyes never moved across the page.

Mello was annoyed. That was a fairly common state of being for him, but he felt particularly annoyed at that moment. He couldn’t focus, which was the first source of his irritation. Now that he had some peace and quiet, whenever he settled down to study his mind would wander. Where it would wander to was the second – and greater – source of irritation.

He hadn’t seen Near for five days straight. After Mello had thrust the hated red and white robot back into its owner’s arms, said owner had mumbled a small ‘Thank you’ and padded away. And that was the last time he had seen Near. After two weeks of being unable to get away from the boy, Mello should have been glad to have him gone. But he wasn’t really. He found himself wondering why Near had been missing classes. And meals for that matter, although he never seemed to eat that much, anyway.

Near must be getting his food and materials somehow, because his grades were staying solidly on top. That ruled out the possibility that there was anything seriously wrong with him. If there were, then it wasn’t likely he would still be taking tests. Well, not _very_ likely, anyway. And it wasn’t like Near needed alone time for his studies. He hardly ever bothered to crack open a book, and he still managed to stay on top.

Add one more source of irritation.

With a little growl, Mello snapped the textbook shut and turned his still unfocused gaze to the TV screen. Matt was playing another first person shooter. Those always made Mello a little dizzy to watch. He stared at the floor instead.

It wouldn’t be like Near to sulk, and why would he? He had his damned toy back, and Mello hadn’t even taken it apart before returning it. He should be pleased and grateful, if anything. Things were supposed to get back to normal. But no, Near had to go keep acting strange. What was up with him?

Maybe it was just another one of his experiments. He had said the reason he had been following Mello for weeks was just to observe him. Maybe those observations led him to test some psychological theory. Mello wouldn’t put it past the albino to use classmates like that. He wouldn’t see anything inherently wrong with the idea, since his own concept of personal boundaries was so skewed. Mello didn’t like the notion of being used as a guinea pig anymore than he had about being ‘observed’. What was he now, another one of Near’s toys?

Mello leaned back, trading a view of the carpet for one of the ceiling. Somewhere up there was a small boy, sitting by himself in a room as blank as a canvas. Near had shut himself up once before, but only for two days, to recover from a jaunt outside without enough sunscreen. This was five days with no sign of him, after a stint of already acting strange.

Something had to be wrong with him, and not wrong in the normal Near usage of the word. There was something bothering him, and bothering him badly enough that he didn't want to be seen by anybody else. The question was what?

After an exasperated sigh and head scratch from Mello, Matt piped up without looking away from his game. “Dude, if you’re that worried about him, why not check on him?”

Mello shot icy daggers at his friend, which had little effect, since Matt was still immersed in his game. “Who the hell said I was worried?” he growled.

Matt shrugged, blithely ignoring his explosive friend’s tone. He’d come to know Mello’s moods and limits pretty well – from years of crossing them – and he wasn’t quite worked up enough to start beating on Matt yet. “No one,” he said, sniping an infiltrator with a quick button press. “But you’re acting worried. Plus, you didn’t need to ask who I meant, which means that’s who you were thinking about.”

“Jackass.”

“True.”

Considering the short conversation at an end, Mello crossed his arms across his chest and glowered at the far wall, attempting to peel back the wallpaper by sheer willpower. If Matt had concluded that Mello was worried, then had Near as well? God, the last thing he needed was more leverage in the hands of his enemy, no matter how small or unlikely to be used it was. And really, it wasn’t like he _was_ worried. He just wanted to know what his rival was thinking. It was important if he wanted to be number one.

From his position on the sofa, Matt snuck a sideways glance at his friend from behind orange tinted goggles. “So when are you going up?” he asked innocently.

Mello threw out a hand and slapped the cushion right by Matt’s head, trying to make the redhead jump and mess up his game. It didn’t work. “I’m not going to check! I prefer the sheep-boy out of my hair for once. You know how he was following me around.”

There was a loud explosion on the television, punctuated by melodramatic screaming. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” the gamer replied tiredly. He knew because Mello would complain about it to anyone who happened to be close, which was always Matt. “So’s that why you’ve almost completely stopped eating chocolate? The kitchen folks think you’re sick or something.”

Mello felt his ears begin to burn, which pissed him off. Why the hell was he blushing? “Shut. Up.”

Behind their orange goggles, green eyes rolled. “Whatever, man.”

For a while the two friends sat in silence, save the sound effects coming from the television. One was totally engrossed in his game, and the other was sulking.

He’d forgotten about the chocolate. For some reason his addiction just hadn’t been that appealing to him over the past couple days. Which was unheard of. Mello was capable – and had proven himself capable – of putting away an entire case of chocolate bars in a single day. The bargain stuff, anyway. The good chocolate he would savor. But now he was down to about one bar a day. No wonder the kitchen staff thought he was ill.

That did it. He would check on Near. _Not_ because he was worried, because he _wasn’t_ , but because it was stupid to stay ignorant and wondering, when all it would take to solve the mystery was investigate.

And he wanted his chocolate cravings back.

After Mello had left the room, slamming the door and forgetting his trig text, Matt finally let loose the smirk he’d been holding back. Mello _would_ have hit him if he’d seen it.

“Moron.”

—•—

Near wandered though the halls without much direction. The plan had been to leave his room and shake off his lethargy, not to go to any specific place. So Near roamed, in his oddly hunched and shuffling way, from the dormitories to the classrooms to the playrooms to the mess hall – which was ironically the cleanest out of all the rooms at Wammy’s – to the common rooms. Everywhere he went there was a noticeable absence of children and noise. The most highly populated rooms were the common rooms and libraries, but everyone seemed to be reading quietly. It wasn’t until Near looked at the subject matter of their books that he remembered the winter exams.

With those right around the corner, there would be very little in the way of playfulness or ruckus. One of the only times when Near wanted both, and they were absent. There was a phrase for times like these, an informal turn meaning whatever could go wrong would… Ah, that was it. Murphy’s law.

Near didn’t know who Murphy was, but his law was inconvenient.

Eventually the small boy made it to the first floor game room, the same game room where Mello had returned his robot. Near still didn’t want to see the blonde, but with exams so close, it was unlikely he would be in there. More probably he would be holed up in his room, studying hard.

Quietly, Near pushed open the door and entered the somewhat dim room. It was relatively peaceful here as well, but there were a few taking advantage of the low traffic and playing the games. Just enough to constitute as background noise. The greatest source of sound appeared to be coming from one of the televisions. Near gravitated toward it to see who was playing.

It was a redheaded boy, wearing orange goggles and a horizontally striped shirt. Matt. Of course he would be playing videogames. He played games constantly, even while eating or walking from room to room, one of his handhelds fixed permanently in front of him.

No one ever seemed to comment on it, but Near had noticed that Matt seemed to study as little as himself. If the gamer applied himself to schoolwork as much as games, then there would have been a three way struggle for the topmost position. But Matt spent most of his time behind a screen, tuning out the rest of the world.

Near could understand that. He did the same thing with his own games, they were just more tactile than Matt’s.

Near made his way around the TV on the far side to avoid interrupting any game play. He sat down on the opposite end of the sofa as the gamer, one knee habitually brought close to chest and one hand twirling his white hair.

For a while, neither of the boys spoke. Matt because he was playing his game, and while he was perfectly capable of carrying on conversations while playing, he wasn’t likely to initiate one. Near was quiet because he wasn’t sure of what he wanted to say. Now that he was in the presence of the redhead, he found he did want to talk about his predicament, but a direct approach was still not an option. Because Matt and Mello were friends and because – frankly – it was embarrassing to admit to.

So, what to say? Try to talk in circles, elicit advice while leaving Matt in the dark as to what had been the actual topic? No, that was not a good idea. Matt may be third in line, but he was still intelligent. Near had a notion that Matt actually kept quiet about quite a few of his observations and deductions, and so hid some of his true intelligence.

No, no verbal sleight of hand.

If not the core problem, then maybe one of the smaller, orbiting problems that wouldn’t seem related…

Near looked at Matt from under a fringe of white bangs. If the gamer noticed the younger boy’s shift of attention, he didn’t show it. In what Near hoped was a nonchalant tone, but was really his normal monotone, he said, “Matt smells like soap and mint.”

Matt gave a snort that could have been a chuckle. “Yeah,” he replied, not looking away from the screen, “people tend to smell like soap after they bathe.”

“And mint?”

Now Matt did turn his head toward Near, just a little and with eyes still trained on his virtual targets, and stuck out his tongue at the little albino. There was a red and white striped candy balanced there. “A slight oral fixation,” Matt said after taking away the pink appendage.

Near was silent for a minute. There was another odor coming from Matt that might explain the strength of the first two. Near wasn’t quite sure his recollections of Matt’s scent were accurate, but he was sure that the gamer had never used a strong floral soap before. And the oral fixation could easily translate into…

“Would that also explain the odor of cigarettes?”

Matt grinned. “Heh. You noticed it, huh? Don’t tell Roger I’ve been smoking, okay? He’d have a fit.”

Near nodded, even if Matt couldn’t see it. “I shall refrain. Matt may wish to try a brand that isn’t as strong, to avoid any clinging odors.”

Matt continued to grin as his fingers flew over the buttons on his controller. “Taken under advisement,” he said. It was hard to tell if he was mocking or not.

Near let the conversation lapse again as he thought out his next move. Communication really wasn’t his forte. He was lucky it was Matt he was speaking to. He was distracted enough by his game to either not notice or not care about Near’s regular hesitations. Near would need to practice this skill later. For now he just had to make it through as best he could. He took a breath and twirled his hair just a little harder. “Would Matt mind answering a question?”

“Nah, go ahead.”

Twirl, twirl. “What do I smell like?” Twirl, twirl.

There was one last, decisive press of a controller button as Matt paused his game. Near blinked; he didn’t think Matt knew about the pause button, he’d never seen him use it before.

Matt pulled down his goggles until they hung loose around his neck and turned a pair of murky green eyes on the albino. “Okay, Near,” he said with an unfamiliar serious tone. “What’s with the sudden thing for how people smell? It’s kinda weirding me out.”

Near kept his face blank at Matt’s direct question. “Matt need feel no apprehension. My olfactory interest is nothing more than a simple exercise, meant to hone skills needed as a detective.”

Matt raised an eyebrow, not at all convinced by Near’s disclaimer. “You’re thinking of bloodhounds, not detectives,” he said dryly.

Near stared.

Matt sighed dramatically. “Fine,” he said, closing his eyes. He took in a couple of shallow sniffs. He frowned and breathed deeper, either having a hard time picking up anything off of Near or unable to place it. Then, to Near’s surprise and alarm, the redhead grabbed him by his shirt front, eyes still closed, and pulled the boy toward him. Near fought back involuntary shivers as Matt sniffed at his shoulder and hair.

Well, this was… different… and awkward. But it’s not like he could tell Matt to stop, he’d asked him to do it.

Finally, the redhead released his grip sat back again. Near scooted back to his corner, hurriedly. Matt didn’t seem to notice, and just looked at Near and shrugged. “You don’t smell like much of anything except fabric softener. Maybe my nose isn’t very sensitive.”

“Cigarettes,” Near reminded him.

Matt shook his head. “Nah, I don’t smoke enough to mess with my sense of smell and taste. Maybe you just don’t smell that much.” He flashed another one of his lopsided grins. “Switch brands now and then and I don’t think you’ll have to worry about any trackers by nose, human at least.”

Near managed to return the grin with a tiny smile of his own. He then stood to leave. He had meant to stay and ask one or two more questions, but after that little experience it was probably best to just leave now. “Thank you, Matt,” he said quietly, and made for the door.

“Sure thing. Oh, hey,” the redhead called, making Near turn back halfway to the door. “Here!”

Near managed to catch the wrapped mint that was tossed underhand to him. He looked at Matt, who was still smiling. “Mint’s a common enough smell as long as you don’t reek of it.”

Near nodded and slipped the candy into a pajama pocket. “Thank you,” he said again, and left the game room.

Still seated on his sofa, Matt watched as the second boy in the last hour left in search of something and chuckled. Pulling the goggles back into place over green orbs, he switched the game back on.

“Uh-huh.”

—•—

Near’s room was as stark and plain as ever, that much was certain. It hadn’t changed at all since the last time Mello had been inside it, except to gain a few more toys. The question now was where was the room’s resident?

This was turning into a habit, and Mello didn’t like it. When he wanted his personal space, he couldn’t shake the younger boy. Now, when he went looking for him, he couldn’t find him.

Well, he’d come up to see if Near was all right. Since he wasn’t holed up in his room, Mello had to assume that he was well enough to wander around. That was enough to satisfy him for now. He’d even gone so far as to check the closet and under the bed to make sure the boy hadn’t heard Mello coming and hid. But the room was empty, save the dozens of toys and games standing on every surface available.

Mello found himself walking around the room looking at each one in turn. There were the expected robots, planes, puppets, and action figures, all placed in the most visible areas. But there were also stuffed animals, a few dolls, building blocks made of wood and carved with letters of the alphabet… Mello traced one of the letters with a fingertip. What did Near see in these things? They were all so simple, didn’t they bore him after awhile? These in particular were very simple. The blocks wouldn’t even provide a challenge for stacking. They were designed to stack.

It was strange that someone so intelligent would find entertainment in hobbies so primitive.

G.I. Joes, RC cars, dozens of blank puzzles, (why have more than one if they were all white?), dominoes, several different card games and tarot decks… it was like a toy outlet in Near’s room.

Mello thought about his own room, papered with posters of the most popular local bands, littered with books, clothes, and dishes that hadn’t made it to the kitchen; not to mention the heaps of empty chocolate wrappers. It looked like a typical teenager’s room, not like a set for an idolized children’s room. Even Matt’s dorm, which he spent very little time in, was cluttered with games and handheld consoles.

There had to be something that wasn’t so tidy about Near, but Mello was damned if he could find it.

Mello turned to leave the empty bedroom and head back to his own. If Near wasn’t here, it meant he had to be somewhere else – genius deduction, that – meaning he wasn’t sick, and Mello could stop worrying. Not that he had been worried.

Walking past the bed a second time, Mello noticed some color out of place. There was a small stain of red in the center of the plush white comforter. Mello’s heart stopped for a second as the first thought that came to him was, _Blood!_

Why would there be blood in Near’s bed? Was he actually hurt? Was this why he had been hiding, so he could…

A blink, and a second look revealed the red to merely be the colorful highlights of the robot that had, until recently, graced Mello’s room. The blonde took a deep breath. _Stupid,_ he thought. _There’s no way that Near would do that. He’s too logical._

Mello picked up the little toy, running a thumb over the plastic dome. Taking it had made Near turn stalker, and returning it had made him shut himself away. Was _that_ logical? Maybe it was to Near, but Mello couldn’t read his mind, nor did he want to. He just wished he could understand it a little more.

Tossing the toy back on the bed, Mello walked back to the door. He pulled it open quickly, just in time to reveal a startled Near.

—•—

“Near!”

“Mello…”

The two boys stood frozen at the sight of each other, both processing. Near was more than a little surprised to witness Mello exiting his room, and a number of reasons for why he had been in there suggested themselves. Mostly he was distracted by the rising sensation of embarrassment at the idea of Mello being in his bedroom. Where he slept and dressed… oh, dear.

Mello, on the other hand, was desperately trying to think of any excuse as to _why_ he had been in the room. It occurred to him that he should have caused some damage, and then there would have been no question as to his motives. As it was, what could he say?

Finally, Near leaned slightly, looking past Mello into the white room. Nothing appeared broken or out of place, which was a little bit of a relief. At least there was no clean-up waiting for him. He looked back at Mello, who looked uncomfortable. “Did Mello need something?” he asked, pleased his voice was utterly flat.

“No, I just…” Mello dropped his gaze. There was no real point in trying to lie to Near, he would see right through it. “Near,” he said instead, “are you sick?” As he spoke, he could feel his ears grow hot again.

For how much expression Near showed he might as well have been made of stone. “No, my health is perfect. Thank you for your concern.”

Mello’s color soared. “I’m not concerned, dammit!” He was blushing _again_? This was intolerable!

Near didn’t react to the blonde’s outburst, but did note the pink stain that had made its way across Mello’s cheeks and met at the bridge of his nose. “My mistake, then.”

Mello only nodded curtly and dropped his blue eyes to the floor again. He didn’t know what to say next, and was tempted to push past the younger boy to escape any further questions. But he didn’t want to approach any closer, as though Near were a brand that would burn him.

For his part, Near was fascinated by that blush. It was terribly suggestive. It wasn’t Mello’s usual reddening; this was a much lighter color. More of a pink than the deep red of fury he normally had. If not anger, then embarrassment at being found in Near’s room? Suggestive, indeed. Well, the best way to find out…

“Why was Mello in my room?”

The older boy snorted and tossed his head. “Isn’t it obvious?” he snapped, trying to draw attention away from the traitorous shade of his cheeks. “I was looking for you, stupid.” Never mind why he had been looking.

Near let the ‘stupid’ remark pass without comment. “I had deduced as much,” he said with a touch more dryness than usual. “But wouldn’t it also be obvious that I was not in the room simply by looking? Why did Mello go in?”

_Damned persistence,_ Mello thought. “I – I didn’t know if you were hiding or not.”

_Stuttering_ now? Since when did Mello stutter?

If the blonde hoped Near would fail to notice the slight stammer, he hoped in vain. The albino’s slate gray eyes bored into him as he asked, “Why would I hide from Mello?”

“I don’t know!” Mello shouted, throwing up a hand. “Why _have_ you been hiding the past couple of days?”

Near seemed to draw into himself slightly as the questioning was turned. “I have not been hiding.” Mello’s ears perked. Was that defensiveness he heard? “I have simply not felt like leaving my room.”

Cold blue eyes narrowed. “But you’re not sick?”

“Correct.”

Silence dropped between them for a few moments, and Near began twirling his hair again. It was the only sign he gave as to his inner turmoil. This was really too much. Bad enough to feel an attraction to Mello – and it was an attraction. That was obvious with the boy standing right in front of him. Add to that an unsettling encounter with Matt not fifteen minutes ago, and now Mello himself skirting dangerously close to the subject with his questions… Near needed some time alone again to try and sift through it all.

His attention was brought back by Mello’s frustrated mutter. “What the hell _is_ wrong with you, Near?”

_What, indeed,_ he wondered. Having no answer, Near only shrugged his thin shoulders, and finally let his own stare drift away from Mello. Staring at him wasn’t doing his mental state any kind of good.

It was a mistake. Near never looked away from someone he was talking to, not unless he was playing one of his games. He was known for it, his flat eyes sending shivers up the spines of whomever they were fixed on.

Quietly, though he didn’t know why, he asked, “Are you avoiding me, Near?”

Those eyes were back on Mello so fast he almost took a step back. He almost took another one when he heard the tone of indignation in Near’s voice. “Don’t be stupid, Mello. There is nothing wrong with my health, and I have no reason to avoid Mello. I could say that of the two of us, Mello is the one who appears unwell. Now, excuse me.”

The smaller boy moved to push he way past a gaping Mello, making his hurried way into the pure white sanctuary of his room. Mello recovered enough to grab one of Near’s elbows before he disappeared. “Hold it, Near, I’m not done –“

A small, pale hand wrapped around the browner, calloused one that clutched at Near’s sleeve. It had little strength, but Near dug his fingers into Mello’s hand painfully as he pulled it away from his arm. Almost in a whisper, Near said, “Mello must not touch,” before shutting his door in the face a thoroughly shaken boy.

—•—

Mello flopped back into his place on the sofa, ignorant that the boy he had just spoken to had sat there not too long ago, and ignoring his trigonometry book.

Near was all right, he supposed, but something was wrong. He’d actually shown emotion up there, and if that wasn’t odd then Mello was a penguin. Trying to figure out what it could be would be difficult, but an interesting challenge…

Lost in his own musings, the chocoholic didn’t notice his redheaded friend watching him out of the corners of his eyes. Nor did he notice those eyes roll and the tiny sigh that escaped the gamer.

“Mel,” he said, still playing diligently, “have you got a crush on some girl, or something?”

Mello looked up, startled out of his reverie. “What?”

“It’s the wrong season to be twitterpated, you know,” he said blandly. “That’s spring.”

This time the color on Mello’s face was the red of anger as he rose in his seat to loom over the still calm gamer. “What the hell are you talking about, you idiot? I’m not in lo…”

Realization hit like a hammer. As did dread. “…ove…” he finished.

Matt smirked again as Mello deflated into the sofa, but only with the half of his face not visible to the blonde. He’d just barely avoided a beat down, now was not the time to tempt fate. Still, it was hard not to snort as Mello summed up his feelings:

“Ah, _fuck_.”


	4. You

Winter had officially come to Winchester. Outside the fields were concealed under a thick blanket of snow, and skeletal trees were dressed in alabaster shrouds. In town the buildings were all hung around with icicles. The older places in particular were so heavily draped they appeared to have frozen waterfalls spilling from their roofs. Every child in the area took the glistening landscape as their cue to really get to work on Christmas lists. Even if the day was a little more than a month away.

Mello couldn’t have cared less about the upcoming holiday. There was more than the prospect of gifts on his mind, now. Munching halfheartedly on a chocolate bar, (he was down to half a bar a day), he looked out at the pristine snow from his second story bedroom window. He tried to think, to make it all make sense somehow, but he’d done almost nothing _but_ think since Matt’s little drop, and his brain refused to do it anymore. Besides, no amount of thinking could change one little fact:

He was in love with Near. Or at least liked him a great deal… more than he should like his rival. He shouldn’t like Near at all.

But he did. It was so glaringly obvious once he came to think about it, he wondered how he could have been so clueless. In a way, he wished he never had come to realize his feelings. It had been so much easier just to hate the little albino for his perfection, his superiority, his effortlessness… now Mello found himself liking Near for almost exactly the same reasons. All the things that Mello strove for were wrapped up in the little package that was Near, so it made sense why Mello would come to like him.

But the hate was still there, too. Not as intense, but those feelings of jealousy and resentment were there, right along with the newer ones of affection.

_God, oh God, oh God, why why **why** did it have to be **Near**?_

If it had been anyone else, even another boy, Mello could have dealt with, but _Near_? The boy who constantly beat him at every endeavor, whose self-confidence and arrogance grated on Mello’s nerves constantly. The boy who was all but L’s guaranteed successor in everyone’s mind… The only one, besides Matt, who really understood him. Someone who never hated Mello back, for all of the bitterness and cruelty he had poured into him over the years… who never seemed to be hurt, no matter how many times Mello lashed out.

Mello stared at his hand. He had struck Near in the past many times. Given him black eyes and bloody noses and more because it was the only way he could feel superior to a boy who beat him on every test. It was his one and only advantage over Near, and he’d exploited it to salvage his dignity and pride. And every time, Near had only stared at him. Stared with those eyes like marbles of agate, showing no pain, no fear, no anger, no sorrow. He only watched to see what the blonde would do next. To see if Mello would continue to vent his frustrations on Near’s frail body, or if he would walk away.

Mello clenched his hand into a fist until knuckles cracked. He had been a little ashamed those times, under those eyes that were both witness and victim, and he was ashamed now. At first he had thought that hurting Near was a kind of supremacy he could hold over the younger boy, but it was just pettiness. It was just a way to make himself feel better for his failures, like any common bully. Near had seen it for what it was from the beginning, and had allowed it. That’s what those eyes had been saying to him as he rained down blows.

How could anything positive spring from a history like that? Even if Near didn’t hate him, if he understood the whys of Mello’s past behavior and could forgive, could Near love? Never mind if he could love _Mello_ , could he love _at all_?

The strongest emotion he had ever seen Near display had been only a few days ago, outside the pale boy’s bedroom, and that had been a far cry from love. Indignation and frustration did not a good relationship make. Any other odd conduct that Near had been evidencing over the weeks he wrote off as the albino picking up on Mello’s new feelings before he had himself. If anything was likely to shake Near up and make him act strange, it would be becoming the object of infatuation.

Nothing was more likely to scare him away, either.

He’d thought for just a moment after the exams that there might be reason to hope, to think that maybe there was a chance of Near regarding him with more than indifference. On the board showing the exam scores, Near had come out with a 98%, the same score as Mello. They had tied before for scores, but this was the first time Near had failed to receive a perfect 100%.

Mello’s stomach had lurched at the sight of those two little numbers. If Near’s scores were falling, did that mean his concentration was off? Was there a chance of returned feeling?

But Mello was disappointed for any further clue. When Near had gone up to look at the board, he hadn’t reacted at all. He had just taken a couple of seconds to study the scores and then returned to his seat. Not a glance or word to Mello, no sign on his face or posture that his less than perfect marks had affected him at all.

The flutter in Mello’s gut had sunk down sickeningly. The old story of Pandora’s Box originally had hope as one of the worst evils to be released into the world, and now he knew why.

Why was he reacting this much? Why was he feeling so deeply when he had only realized all of this a few days ago? Just how long had he felt this way? Memories of the years he had spent at Wammy House unrolled in his mind, all the way back to his first weeks, when he had still been having the nightmares. To the first time he had seen, and then met the pale boy in white pajamas. Had he fallen for him then, during those first days, or had it crept up on him slowly? Mello didn’t know. There was no way to tell for certain. All he could be certain of was that this feeling had been with him for a long while. If that meant years or only months, again, there was no way he could tell.

For the last few days, since the beginning of their winter break, this was all he had been able to think about. The whys, how’s, and when’s of it all. It had gotten him nowhere except frustrated and exhausted. Now it was almost impossible to think about it with any kind of realistic logic.

If Near did feel the same way, for example, then it should be no problem if Mello were to approach him and broach the subject. They were both highly intelligent and could reason their way through anything, right?

No. First, Near wouldn’t even believe him if he declared his feelings. He would probably think – and with good reason – that Mello was trying to trick him for amusement’s sake. Second was the reaction Near was likely to give if he _did_ believe Mello was being genuine. If Mello was honest with himself, he knew that Near’s response would be far from jubilant. There would be confusion, denial, and rejection. And that was all assuming that the albino somehow did feel at least kindly towards the boy that had been tormenting him for years, had declared to hate him, and had made him bleed for nothing more than being who he was.

Well, if Near didn’t love him already, then Mello would just have to prove himself. _Make_ Near love him back.

Again, no. Force, in this case, was not the way to go. Even Mello, who opted for the direct approach more than any other, could admit that. To force love would only make it come out twisted and tainted.

Mello pressed his forehead against the chill glass of the window. The snow was so white and perfect, like Near. No tracks marred its surface, no trace of the muddy landscape beneath it showed through; it was like the world had been reset and made innocent like it had been in the beginning. In the beginning, before the introduction of sin. A hand came up to the rosary that always hung at his neck, tucked safely underneath his black shirt.

If Near was purity and innocence, did that make him sin?

The hand not fingering the smooth beads around his throat clenched into another fist. Violence to passivity, aggression to tolerance, black to white, dark to light. The moon couldn’t show both faces at once. Shadow and light couldn’t maintain to same house.

It would never work. If for no other reason then because Mello couldn’t rid himself of those lingering, nagging moments of hate and envy. Those may never leave, and they would poison any relationship Mello and Near might create.

Mello stepped away from the window. He was going outside alone, cold or not, rules or not. The house suddenly felt stuffy and close, suffocating him. He’d go out into the snow, and see if the world could survive his stigma.

—•—

In the kitchen, sitting at the large table used for setting out prepared dishes, Near was stacking dice. Technically he wasn’t allowed to be in the kitchen by himself, nor was any other child, but no one ever minded Near in the kitchen. He always cleaned up his own mess, and ate so little that he wasn’t considered a risk for snacking in-between meal times. The only occasion he had ever gotten into trouble for being in the kitchen unattended had been when he had decided flour and water would make good building mortar. He’d been five at the time.

Now he was attempting to create a medieval concentric castle with round towers. He’d finished the inner wall, all sixes showing for the walls and all twos for the towers, with the occasional five representing the windows. Now it was on to the outer wall, everything built the same, only slightly shorter and wider.

Things still hadn’t improved on the Mello situation. In fact, the tension only seemed to be increasing. Since the day Near had found him coming out of his room, he had caught Mello staring at him a few times. Just staring. Near wasn’t sure whether to take that as a positive sign or not. He had decided to leave Mello completely alone, but not avoid him like he had been, to see if things would finally return to normal.

So far that plan had been a failure. While Near was doing his best to adhere to his old routines, Mello was not. The blonde, far from being his usual energetic self, was acting withdrawn. He would sit off by himself, keeping silent and staring into space. If he noticed that Near was in the same room, he would either stare at the younger boy until he left, or carefully avoid looking at him at all.

Near paused in the middle of building the outer gate.

All of this was beginning to frustrate Near intolerably. So he felt affection for Mello, fine. Did that mean the rest of the world had to stop, that everything else had to be put on hold in the face of this… feeling? He had seen others fall prey to this affliction, and it did seem as though nothing else mattered to them while caught in its throes, but Near was logical. He had lived almost his whole life in the practice of stifling and smothering emotion; this should have been a simple matter to take care of. Why it wasn’t was a mystery to him. And Mello was refusing to act normally. If the older boy could have just been his regular rude and explosive self, Near might have just been able to ignore it all until it was forgotten.

Not that there wasn’t anything to be appreciative for. It had been over a month since the last time Mello had picked a fight with him, bawled him out, or ruined any of his projects. It was small comfort to the little albino, who found the confusion more than enough replacement to the usual discomforts. If he just knew what Mello was thinking, why he was behaving the way he was, that would give him somewhere to start. Any attempt he made to figure out the inner workings of the blonde was thwarted, however; both by his own turmoil and by Mello’s inconsistency.

If Mello were confused by Near’s own behavior, then he should be acting normally. Nothing Near did that did not directly affect Mello should have bothered him enough to upset his routines. If the confusion made him angry, then he would have confronted Near directly, no hesitation. That was far from the case, as Near hadn’t had such a peaceful stretch in over a year.

If Mello had somehow divined Near’s feelings from his attitude, which was possible, then it was still all illogical. If he knew and was angered or disgusted, the least Near could have expected would have been a humiliation tactic of some sort. The worst to be expected didn’t bear thinking about.

On the other hand, if he knew and reciprocated – which Near had considered the most probable at one point – then Mello’s character would have had him at least approaching Near, feeling him out for some sign of how he would react. If Mello cared for Near in return, then he would have made some move by now. He was much more comfortable in the realms of emotion and interaction than Near was. Of the two of them, Mello had the upper hand in this situation. If only he knew, he’d have been thrilled.

But that had not happened. None of those things had happened.

Near stared at his ivory fortress. It was almost done, a miniature structure meant for defense and protection. It was all for show, though. The tiniest bump or vibration could send the whole thing rattling to pieces.

_Some detective,_ he thought disgustedly. _A brilliant mind, and you’re incapable of solving your own problems._

Something had to change, and soon. If things continued as they were, Near might actually go mad, or Mello might finally snap out of his lethargy and take out all of his dammed up frustration on Near at once. Near felt no need for a hospital visit.

The bell in the old tower of the orphanage struck once, marking the quarter. 4:15pm. Time to start clearing away the dice, before the cooks came in to prepare dinner.

The dice were stowed away carefully into a white canvas bag. On his way to the stairs leading to the second floor, Near had to cross through the foyer. There were large windows on either side of the front door, showing grounds that had been transformed the night before by the year’s first snowfall. What caught Near’s attention, though, was a black stain on the pure white background, slowly shrinking. Someone had gone outside, despite rules about designated recess times.

It was Mello. All black clothing, a head of light hair, and breaking the rules so blatantly, it had to be Mello.

Near watched as Mello walked further and further away from the orphanage. Where was he going? There was nothing in that direction except gardens and greenhouses.

Yet another unfamiliar sensation made itself known to Near, snapping up his spine and emboldening him. Something had to change. If Mello wasn’t going to be the one to initiate that change, then it would have to be Near.

Quickly, before he lost his newfound nerve, Near climbed the stairs to his room. Once there he dropped off the bag of dice and opened up his closet, pulling out a large white winter coat, a pair of boots, and a bottle of sunscreen. With all of that snow, he would have to be especially careful, the damaging light would be reflected and coming from all directions. After slathering the scented stuff on every inch of exposed skin, including behind his ears and under his chin, shrugging on the coat and pulling on the awkward boots, he made his way back downstairs.

The only problem would be if he were caught on the way out. This was breaking the rules, after all.

He wasn’t caught. He made it to the door without being seen, although he could hear the sounds of playing down the hall. Still being quick, he opened the door and let in a rush of frozen air. Near shivered as it whipped past his exposed face, and squinted in the glaring light. Once outside, he dug into a coat pocket and found one of his many pairs of sunglasses. When you were an albino, you had to be careful about your eyes, whether they were pigmented or not.

Following the set of tracks Mello had left behind, Near ambled out into the winter landscape.

—•—

Like everything else, the small vegetable patch Mello had come to had a fresh covering of snow. There were no vegetables left, they had all been harvested when the nighttime frosts had begun. So there were no shapes outlined in the pure white, only vague impressions of empty rows, their depths softened where the flakes gathered.

It didn’t look much like a garden, but Mello could imagine what it looked like alive and growing.

Back in the days before Wammy’s, before Mello had become Mello, his family’s garden had always been the one place he could go to feel at peace. There had been no judgment, no jealousy, and no punishments, only the quietness of growing things and the wind. Those old memories, long ago set aside to make room for a new life, were all that gave Mello’s tired mind any sort of rest.

Mello focused just on the peaceful times in the garden, when he had hid among the beans and cabbage, playing with stones… before the fire had taken everything…

A soft sound made Mello look up. Any tranquility he may have found was swept aside at the sight of Near, bundled in slightly overlarge winter clothing and holding a pair of sunglasses in ungloved fingers. His exposed eyes squinted in the light.

Mello felt something snap inside of him at the sight of the boy who haunted his thoughts. “Dammit, Near!” he shouted in the white stillness. “Why can’t you leave me alone?”

Near ignored the angry exclamation and looked around with an air of mystification. He had thought perhaps there was some hidden nook beyond the gardens that Mello was headed for, or that he intended to leave the grounds altogether and walk to town. But he had stopped here.

“It seems strange that Mello would come to a vegetable garden,” he said, still staring at the faint outlines of rows. “Why does he?”

Mello looked away, embarrassed. It was… well, not a rule, but a custom at Wammy’s that when you stepped through the doors and took on a new name, your past was left completely behind. He’d just been reliving a piece of his past, leaving himself open to those old doubts and wounds. If he admitted it, it might come across as weakness. “Why do you care?” he snapped at the boy, hoping open hostility would make back off. “It’s just a place to go.”

“And yet very out of character,” Near looked up at Mello, eyes still straining a little in the unfamiliar brightness. “Mello hates vegetables, and is not known for enjoying quiet environments.”

“You don’t know everything about me, Near. I’m not some book to be picked up and read.” It was bad enough Near was standing here with him, alone, but his line of questioning was making him feel defensive. There had to be a better topic than this.

Near carefully tucked the sunglasses into a pocket. “This is true,” he agreed. “Mello is more complicated than a book. There is much that is unknown about him. For example,” here Near took a breath. If Mello wasn’t going to be straightforward, then he would have to be, he reminded himself. “Why did Mello watch me in the library?”

Not this topic. Mello fidgeted under the question, eyes still averted. “Does it matter anymore?”

Slowly, Near began to circle around the small plot towards Mello. He wasn’t used to wearing shoes at all, much less bulky boots, slogging through snow, so progress had to be slow. “Since we both appear to be experiencing the aftereffects of that day,” he said without inflection, “I think it is important.”

Mello noted Near’s advance, and kept himself from moving away in response. Instead he stared into the younger boy’s watering eyes. Why didn’t he put his glasses back on? “…I was interested in what you were doing.”

“Playing with my toys?” There was a hint of disbelief in Near’s voice. “Mello has seen me do that hundreds of times.” The distance had already been cut by half.

“Yeah, well, that time was different.” The blonde continued to fidget, both from the questions and from the growing proximity of the albino. Why was he getting so close?

Near finally stopped, a little less than arm’s length away. Mello had tensed so much he looked ready to bolt at any moment. If Near hadn’t been so nervous as well, he might have laughed. “In what way was it different?”

“God, Near, I don’t know!” Mello finally lost a little of his cool. “I’ve been trying to figure that out!”

“And had Mello discovered anything revealing?”

Mello felt the telltale heat in his ears again, and hoped it could be blamed on the cold. “Nothing I care to share with you.”

Near felt a little sick. He’d pushed Mello into this corner deliberately, and while it appeared he felt something for Near, it was also fair to say he appeared ashamed and embarrassed by the fact. Any hope Near had for… anything… was draining away.

If things couldn’t progress the way he had hoped, then it was time to snap their lives back into place. The one reaction Near could always rely on from Mello, and the best chance for normality, should be very easy to get.

“Because Mello has not discovered anything,” he said blandly.

The ice in Mello’s eyes flashed dangerously. “That’s not what I said!”

Near stared directly into those blues and spoke very slowly and deliberately, as though to a child. “Mello has no idea as to his own motives.”

“Shut up, Near!” Before he realized what he was doing, Mello had slapped Near across the face with enough force to send the small boy sprawling in the snow.

He was on his knees beside Near an instant later, helping him sit up anxiously. Mello wasn’t wearing gloves; there already was a clear imprint of his hand blooming on one pale cheek. “Oh God, Near! I’m sorry, are you alright?”

Near brought up a hand to his cheek. It smarted, but he’d received worse in the past. He was more confused than hurt. Mello had never said ‘I’m sorry’ before. “Mello was provoked,” he mumbled. “There is no need to apologize.”

“Yes there is!”

Near looked up, but a curtain of straight yellow hair obscured Mello’s face.

Mello was fighting reliving his memories again. The garden was a place of peace, and what it had provided peace from would haunt him for a long time. If he wasn’t careful, it could become a repeating pattern. What he had experienced as a child he could bring with him as he grew. Still with eyes turned down, Mello began breaking that pattern. “Near, I’m sorry for everything. All the times I hurt you, all the things I’ve said… I’m sorry.” It wasn’t enough, not nearly. But it was a start.

Near’s eyes had widened so much they looked like saucers. “Why does Mello apologize now?”

A touch of Mello’s usual attitude returned. He looked up into Near’s face through the veil of pale hair. “Can’t you figure it out, genius? I love you…” As Mello trailed off, his eyes shifted to look at Near’s right shoulder instead of his face, his cheeks burning.

The world tipped a little for Near. Mello _loved_ him? Had _said_ he loved him? Not like, or felt vague affection for, but _loved_. How could he say that word so easily?

“Mello… loves me…” he said, still deadpan.

Mello flinched a little from the voice that gave no sign of feeling. “Yes.”

“That’s not logical, even for Mello.”

The older boy managed a halfhearted smirk. “No shit. But people aren’t always logical like you, Near.”

Near almost laughed again. Logical? It was almost out of memory since the last time he had been entirely rational. Even now, before this day, how often could he say he had been so close to laughter? If this was the effect love was going to have on him, he would need a mask to maintain his poker face.

“Illogical processes must be contagious, then.”

Mello’s gaze snapped from Near’s shoulder back to his face, and he almost fainted. Near was smiling! A full-on, toothy grin! He started when Near leaned towards him, close enough that Mello could feel his breath when he said, “I feel the same way about Mello.”

The last inches were closed, and two pairs of winter-chilled lips were brought together in a chaste kiss.

Neither boy knew how long it lasted, but it felt like only a moment. When they broke apart, the boys continued to lean into each other; foreheads pressed together, frosty blue eyes absorbed in soft grays.

Mello sighed, smiling. Who knew that things would – or even _could_ progress this way? “Well,” he said with a touch of amusement, “that’s out of the way. What now?”

Near smiled as well, the normally flat eyes dancing. “Mello is superior to myself in matters such as this.” The smile widened just a little, “He is best able to decide.”

Mello had thought he was beyond surprise by this point, but he was wrong. Near had just handed control of the situation to him, when the boy must be feeling the need to take the reigns, to feel safe. It was… sweet. The younger boy knew about Mello’s preoccupation with keeping the advantage, and had given it to him during this moment. Any time before this Mello would have been angry at the presumption, that Near thought it had to be _given_ to him, but not now. Now it just felt good.

He tilted his head to kiss Near again, to answer words with action. But as he came in close, the handprint, an angry red against pearly white skin, caught his eye.

It froze him, that mark. It was the evidence of Mello’s temper, his caged violence and unpredictability. What if it happened again? He loved Near, but love was no sure protection against abuse. His temper was so wild, and Near was so fragile… and not just physically. He could be broken so easily. Could Mello even trust himself?

“It would never work, Near.” There was a catch in his voice as he spoke, and his eyes stung a little. “There’s no way.”

Near’s breath caught as well, a sick feeling settling in his stomach. Why was Mello saying this now, after everything seemed to be going right at last? His smile faded away, his voice becoming as empty as it had ever been. “What is Mello’s rationale?”

“We’re too different,” Mello said, forcing his own voice to be steady. “There’s nothing besides our brains that we have in common. Besides,” he brought up a hand and carefully stroked the print on Near’s cheek, “I can’t promise that something like this won’t happen again.”

Near shivered a little at the gentle touch. It stung, despite Mello’s softness. “That would be painful,” he whispered.

Did he mean if Mello struck him again, or if they kept themselves separate? Mello wondered. Did he mean painful for himself, or Mello, or both?

The boys stayed like that for a long time, kneeling in the snow far from the watchful eyes of caregivers, heads together. Neither wanted to break the moment, because once it was broken, there would be no retrieving it. There would be no coming back to this place and picking up the pieces.

Finally, realizing that it would be dark soon, and colder than ever, Mello broke the silence. “I think we should try to go back to normal. To the way things were before.”

Near leaned back, putting distance between himself and Mello once more, the older boy’s fingers trailing away and leaving his cheek feeling chilled. While they had been so close, he had felt the walls he kept between himself and the world slip, allowing in sensations he had denied himself for years. Now he felt them rising around him again, leaving him numb once more. “Does Mello believe that that is possible?”

“…Maybe not,” he admitted. “But can we try, without things getting too awkward?”

Agate eyes dropped to the snow. “If Mello believes it is the wisest course.”

The red impression seemed to blaze. “I do.”

Another minute passed before Mello picked himself up out of the snow. His clothes had been soaked through in places, freezing skin. They would have to get inside quickly to avoid catching cold. Near especially.

Mello offered Near a hand. Seeming in a daze, Near took it and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. Mello didn’t let go right away, but instead gripped Near’s pale hand a little tighter. “One thing I want to ask you before we go back, though.”

Near looked up, his mask almost completely back in place. “Yes?”

Mello risked coming in close to Near again, to put his lips close to an ear. In a whisper, as though the sleeping garden or mounds of snow could hear him ask the most sensitive question for any Wammy orphan:

“What’s your name?”


	5. Ending 1 Epilogue - Matt

“Son of a bitch!”

For the seventh time in a row, Matt missed the same ledge jump. It was a personal worst that he was glad no one else was around to see. Frustrated, he got up to put a different game in the consol, something that required less precision and more zoning out to really enjoy.

As Matt navigated through the opening menu and called up an old saved game, he reflected that at least the overall mood at Wammy’s was improving. For a little over a month the rising tension had been getting to everyone, not just the top two students, which was where it had been generating from. No one had felt the need to step between the two and try to resolve it for them, though. There was something about the albino and the blonde that made even Roger hesitate before interfering. It had been particularly irritating for the other orphans, who not only had to deal with the aura of foreboding from Near and Mello, but with the teachers’ method for relieving _their_ stress, as well… which happened to be tougher and more frequent quizzes. The exam right before winter break had been particularly brutal.

It might have been surprising to anyone on the outside that two adolescent boys could cause so much trouble without actually damaging property or each other, but no one who knew them were surprised, least of all Matt. He had known that it was only a matter of time before the two really went at each other. They’d fought about every single day since they had met. Well, Mello had fought, Near had sat and watched.

Matt dealt with the whole situation in his usual manner: he found a game and pretended it didn’t exist. Higher intensity or not, this was just another spat between the top two, and would resolve itself quickly enough.

But days stretched on, and nothing really changed. Mello’s mood had become fouler each day, and he never confronted Near or took out his frustration on some other target, like he sometimes did. Personally, Matt was glad for that last detail, since sometimes _he_ was the secondary target. Still, Matt had ignored it. Near and Mello were creatures of habit when it came to each other, things would calm down soon.

Then, about five days into it, Mello had told him that Near was following him. Matt had scoffed at first. The very idea of little Near turning stalker, the boy who still played with action figures and stuffed animals, was laughable. The fact that it was Mello he was supposedly stalking only made it more ludicrous. But Mello had been serious, blue eyes daring the redhead to disbelieve him. So Matt had agreed with him, hoping that doing so would speed the process of returning to normality along.

_Small_ _hope,_ Matt thought as a particularly large explosion sounded from his game. Mello’s chocolate addiction had skyrocketed, and he began avoiding his favorite haunts. To avoid Near, Matt had to assume.

It was all too weird; Matt had had to check it out for himself. He already spent a great deal of time with the blonde, but for a few days he stuck with him like glue. Mello didn’t mind; in fact Matt doubted he even really noticed. He was too distracted by the pale shadow that trailed after him.

It was incredible, but Near actually _was_ following Mello around. He was inconspicuous about it, he didn’t follow Mello every step, and sometimes he was where Mello was going to be rather than arriving afterwards, but he was there. Even more interesting was what Matt saw under the combined blind of a handheld game and his goggles. Every now and then Near would look up from whatever activity he was absorbed in – cards, toys, a book, whatever – and just watch Mello. Not occasional, furtive glances, but full on, unblinking stares. Matt had been surprised. For the little albino to show any interest in another human being wasn’t something he thought he’d ever see. But there he was, staring fixedly with that blank expression of his for a solid minute or two before looking away again.

Even odder was Mello’s response to Near’s attentions, or rather, lack of one. He was aware of the stares, Matt was sure, because whenever one was turned on him, he would slowly tense up like a wire until Near looked away again. Normally something like this would have Mello on his feet and in the smaller boy’s face in a moment, but beyond the body language – and some complaining sent Matt’s way – there was no reaction.

Matt was tempted to ask the blonde what had happened to set all of this off, but he refrained. He knew better than to pry into Mello’s business. Besides, they were best friends. If Mello wanted to share, then he would when he was ready.

After that, he’d stuck close to Mello for two reasons. The first was because he recognized the storm warnings, and while the chocoholic was calm enough for the time being, he was set to go off at any time. He was Mello’s best friend, and shared no special connection with Near, but he didn’t want to see the younger boy hurt. So he stuck close to break up any potential scuffles. The other reason was simple curiosity. It wasn’t often – or ever – that Mello was so tolerant, or that Near broke from his retiring habits, and he wanted to know why. While he wouldn’t stoop to prying, that didn’t mean he couldn’t investigate on his own. He was third in line to the title of ‘World’s Greatest Detective’ after all. That had to count for something.

So he’d continued to watch, in his usual laidback manner, waiting for anything that could give him a clue. At first there was nothing special to notice. Besides the already noted behaviors, nothing was out of place. Neither boy made any move or dropped any hint why they acting so out of character, nor why the tension was fairly crackling between them. By the fifth day Matt had almost given up on his investigation. There was no progress being made, and he was getting bored.

Until he’d had his epiphany. To be fair, he’d overheard a couple of the younger girls talking girly talk, which gave him his little clue. They’d been talking some mush about a crush on some boy, Matt doing his best it ignore it and think why Mello was being so patient with Near. The annoying conversation and his musings had collided with a clang in the gamer’s head.

He laughed, like he had at the time, scaring the living daylights out of the girls. Mello was infatuated with Near, his hated rival! It explained everything beautifully, and relieved some of Matt’s worries about finding a pulped Near some day. The danger wasn’t gone, but it was lessened. What made it entertaining was the fact that Mello was quite obviously oblivious to it. Some genius.

When there had been a break in the weather and an outing into town arranged, Matt had jumped at it. By then, two weeks had gone by, and the air inside the orphanage felt incredibly stuffy and close. It was getting hard to focus on his games. And anything that took time away from his game play was intolerable. Two weeks was more than enough time to spend worrying over someone else’s problems, thank you.

Matt had tried to get Mello to come with him into town. He had even tried bribing him with the promise of deluxe brand chocolates, but Mello wouldn’t budge. You could tell by the look in his eye that he had something planned. Matt could only hope it wasn’t violent as he escaped the orphanage in search of some relax time in a nice, noisy arcade. Maybe by the time he got back, the two of them would have everything figured out.

No such luck. On his return, Mello was acting sullen, and Near was nowhere to be found. Somewhat panicked, Matt had practically sprinted upstairs to Near’s room. When the door had opened, revealing a Near that was both whole and uninjured, he’d had to invent some excuse about needed clarification on a lecture days before. It was a lame excuse, but Near was so distracted that he didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary with Matt’s improvised question. Matt had been even more tempted than ever to ask what had happened, especially later, when he noticed the dramatic dive in Mello’s chocolate consumption.

The new atmosphere had lasted almost a week, and instead of going to Near, who had taken to hiding in his room, or to Mello, who was just scary to talk to in his new state, anyone who couldn’t contain their curiosity came to _him_ asking what was wrong… including the teachers. That was just irritating, being called into Roger’s office and asked – in a roundabout way – why the top two were acting so strange. Matt had shrugged it off, saying it was just some argument that neither had gotten over. He’d made no mention or given any hint what his own ideas on the matter were.

When he thought about it, it started to worry Matt in a new way. If this had been a normal situation of contained violence between the two of them, then Matt’s concern would have been entirely with the albino. Near was not built for fighting, whereas hardly a day went by without Mello getting into some scrap or another, and he wasn’t in the habit of holding back. If Mello ever became earnest in his thrashings on Near, then the albino could be seriously hurt. If Matt took action then, it would be in defense of the younger boy, against his best friend. It would be awkward, but fairly straightforward.

But with Mello in love with Near… that changed things a little. Mello was a highly emotional person by nature; in fact that was probably why he was considered number two in line of succession, and not one. Matt doubted that a couple of points were what really made the difference. It was probably taken from a broader overview. The point was, though, that while one would think because he was a more feeling person than Near, he would be better equipped to deal with emotions. However, he was also more susceptible to their effects. He experienced everything intensely, every up and down, and it made him vulnerable. He could easily be hurt by rejection or indifference.

And he loved Near, the world’s forerunner in all things bloodless and deadpan. Great.

The more Matt thought about it, the more he wondered if Near was aware of the effect he was having on his friend and was exploiting it. He wouldn’t put it past the albino to plot some kind of revenge on the chocoholic. Mello might believe him completely void of feeling, but Matt wasn’t sold on the emotionless façade Near was constantly trying to sell. He wouldn’t consider himself friends with the boy, but he wasn’t an enemy either. At least Near acknowledged his existence and spoke to him on occasion, which showed some desire for interaction. He wasn’t sure why Near had chosen him to… ‘befriend’, if that’s what it could be called, and he didn’t really care or read anything into it. That was the major difference between Wammy’s top two and its top third. Matt didn’t analyze everything into oblivion. That’s probably what knocked him out of the running, but really, sometimes things were just the way they were with no underlying design. That attitude may well have cost him the title, but it made it easier to talk to folks.

In the end, Matt gave up the “Near plotting revenge” theory. It didn’t seem his style. If anything, he was probably even more clueless than Mello.

Or so Matt had thought, until Near had finally come out of his room after five days. The conversation he had initiated had been… more than a little odd, and made Matt think the albino knew something was out of place. After living around dozens of highly intelligent children for years, you hear a lot of strange topics, but Near’s choice of the day had just been bizarre. What a person smells like wasn’t a normal question, even for Wammy’s.

It made Matt pay attention to the younger boy, who had looked surprisingly apprehensive to be talking with Matt. Near didn’t like personal interaction, but just speaking with Matt shouldn’t have made him nervous. Once again, the proverbial light bulb had gone off in Matt’s head. If Near was so nervous all of a sudden over a conversation, that meant something had changed. Something like discovering a new emotion, like love.

A suspicion was no good without something to back it up, though. Thankfully Near provided the perfect evidence gathering opportunity himself by asking about his own scent. Matt had grabbed the opening – and Near – and had pulled him close, deliberately breathing on the sensitive skin at the crook of his neck and just below his ear, seeking a reaction.

He hadn’t been disappointed. Near had tensed just at being so close to Matt. The intimate tickling had almost sent him through the roof. Once released, he had bolted from the room. Matt didn’t think he had ever seen the boy move so fast in his life.

So, the new situation was this, as far as Matt could make it: Mello was in love with Near, his self-imposed archrival, and was unaware of it. Near, for how bloodless he seemed, and against all expectation, loved Mello back, and actually did seem aware of it. He was clued into his own emotions, anyway, if not Mello’s.

Now Matt just had to figure his own place in the action. He no longer felt the desire to pry, but something had to be done. At the rate the two of them were going it would be months before they figured everything out on their own, and Matt was seriously losing patience. If one more person asked him what was wrong with the top two he would chuck a TV at the unfortunate questioner.

The idiot geniuses needed a push.

So he’d pushed Mello. It had taken so little that it was hard for him not to laugh in the blonde’s face, or shout in it: ‘Was that so hard?’

After that, Mello had become withdrawn, and Near had resorted to pretending everything was normal. He didn’t know what the blonde thought of Near’s apparent disinterest, now that he knew his own mind, but Matt’s fear was starting to be realized. Mello was being hurt, intentionally or not, by Near’s callousness. He hardly spoke, and his chocolate intake dropped again. It was a good thing there were no tests to take or Mello would have been failing them.

Matt stuck to his games, trying to stay out of it. He’d dipped his oar in once, which should be more than enough.

One afternoon while playing on his DS, he had seen Mello through the window walking out to the gardens. It was cold outside, and late enough that it would be getting dark soon, but Matt didn’t worry about it. It was another one of those things that Matt never questioned about his friend: why someone so addicted to adrenaline needed quiet time in a vegetable garden. It was Mello’s business, not his. He’d turned back to his handheld game, not thinking anymore about it until another movement out the window had caught his attention.

Much harder to make out against the white background than Mello’s blacks had been a slightly less white smudge. It was Near. A close face-first flop into the snow as he tripped over his own boots proved it if the clothes didn’t. And he was going the same way as Mello. What was he thinking? Heading out after Mello where there was no one else around to watch over them was not the safest option. In Mello’s current mood, who knew what would happen?

Matt almost went after them, to watch and make sure nothing catastrophic happened out in the snow, but stopped halfway to his coat and boots. No, this was what they needed to figure out what was going on, to sort through their changing roles. They deserved privacy for that. He’d glanced at the clock. Give them half an hour, and if they still hadn’t come back, then he would go out.

Half an hour had come and gone, and there was no sign. Matt fidgeted with the all but forgotten game. _Fifteen more minutes,_ he’d thought. _Fifteen, then I go out._

The minutes dragged by, and passed. Reluctantly, Matt began putting on his outdoor gear to hunt up the two boys when he heard the front door open and close. One boot on, the other still dangling from his left hand, Matt rushed to the stairs in time to see Near shucking off his boots by the door. There was no blood, a good sign. No visible bruises or limping, either, although when he turned Matt saw that the front of his pants, from the knees down, were soaked through. What did that mean?

As the younger boy passed him on the stairs, presumably on his way to his room, the redhead almost stopped him to ask if he was all right. There was a vivid red mark on one cheek, and Matt thought he knew where he had gotten it. But Near’s expression, combined with his more than usual slumped posture prevented him. The boy passed him by with no sign that he was even aware of another human presence.

Matt frowned. So Near was okay, at least physically. Give it awhile before any conclusions could be drawn on anything else. But what about Mello? Where was he?

Worried, but no longer apprehensive about breaking up a fistfight, Matt ignored his videogame and waited by the ground floor windows for the return of his friend. Another ten minutes passed before he caught sight of Mello’s black form cutting a slumped silhouette in the snow. He walked in the front door quietly, and without removing his footwear, made his way upstairs as well, the picture of depression.

Well, whatever had happened out there, it didn’t look like it had made things any better.

For the first few days following that outing, the mood didn’t lighten, and it looked as though things would remain as they were for even more weeks. But then there was a particularly difficult exam – a nice little reintroduction after a break – for which, predictably, Near received a higher score than Mello. Mello had blown up at Near and tossed the puzzle the boy had been working on across the room. After that, the old routines that had been missing for so long began reasserting themselves. Mello slowly came back to his aggressive, explosive nature, and Near kept to his corners.

By the end of the month, it was as though nothing at all had happened. To everyone else it must have all seemed like a brief peak in the normal rivalry between Near and Mello, which had now resolved itself.

Except Matt knew better, knew that things weren’t as normal as they seemed. All thanks to two little inadvertent glimpses into the private lives of the boys.

The first had been while passing Mello’s room one night on the way to his own. Matt didn’t make a habit of eavesdropping, but he could hear the boy through the door speaking to himself. Curious, Matt scooted closer and listened carefully. Faintly, he could make out the measured rhythm of a prayer. Well, Mello _was_ catholic. He supposed that he must pray at least once in a while.

The gamer was about to move on when he caught a certain name in Mello’s chanting. Near. Matt had frozen in the middle of his turn towards his room. Mello was offering prayer for Near? It certainly didn’t sound like a request for the deity to smash the albino with holy fire. The tone was wrong. Maybe Mello wasn’t over it yet.

And Near didn’t appear to be, either. The next day, Matt made a wrong turn on the way to the bathroom without noticing – sometimes that happened when you played as you walked – and walked into one of the libraries instead. There was Near, making one of his countless towers as he sat on the floor.

Matt muttered an apology and left almost before he noticed what Near was using for his newest balancing act.

They were chocolate bars.


	6. You, Too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First portion of this chapter is identical to chapter 4 before it diverges.

Winter had officially come to Winchester. Outside the fields were concealed under a thick blanket of snow, and skeletal trees were dressed in alabaster shrouds. In town the buildings were all hung around with icicles. The older places in particular were so heavily draped they appeared to have frozen waterfalls spilling from their roofs. Every child in the area took the glistening landscape as their cue to really get to work on Christmas lists. Even if the day was a little more than a month away.

Mello couldn’t have cared less about the upcoming holiday. There was more than the prospect of gifts on his mind, now. Munching halfheartedly on a chocolate bar, (he was down to half a bar a day), he looked out at the pristine snow from his second story bedroom window. He tried to think, to make it all make sense somehow, but he’d done almost nothing _but_ think since Matt’s little drop, and his brain refused to do it anymore. Besides, no amount of thinking could change one little fact:

He was in love with Near. Or at least liked him a great deal… more than he should like his rival. He shouldn’t like Near at all.

But he did. It was so glaringly obvious once he came to think about it, he wondered how he could have been so clueless. In a way, he wished he never had come to realize his feelings. It had been so much easier just to hate the little albino for his perfection, his superiority, his effortlessness… now Mello found himself liking Near for almost exactly the same reasons. All the things that Mello strove for were wrapped up in the little package that was Near, so it made sense why Mello would come to like him.

But the hate was still there, too. Not as intense, but those feelings of jealousy and resentment were there, right along with the newer ones of affection.

_God, oh God, oh God, why why **why** did it have to be **Near**?_

If it had been anyone else, even another boy, Mello could have dealt with, but _Near_? The boy who constantly beat him at every endeavor, whose self-confidence and arrogance grated on Mello’s nerves constantly. The boy who was all but L’s guaranteed successor in everyone’s mind… The only one, besides Matt, who really understood him. Someone who never hated Mello back, for all of the bitterness and cruelty he had poured into him over the years… who never seemed to be hurt, no matter how many times Mello lashed out.

Mello stared at his hand. He had struck Near in the past many times. Given him black eyes and bloody noses and more because it was the only way he could feel superior to a boy who beat him on every test. It was his one and only advantage over Near, and he’d exploited it to salvage his dignity and pride. And every time, Near had only stared at him. Stared with those eyes like marbles of agate, showing no pain, no fear, no anger, no sorrow. He only watched to see what the blonde would do next. To see if Mello would continue to vent his frustrations on Near’s frail body, or if he would walk away.

Mello clenched his hand into a fist until knuckles cracked. He had been a little ashamed those times, under those eyes that were both witness and victim, and he was ashamed now. At first he had thought that hurting Near was a kind of supremacy he could hold over the younger boy, but it was just pettiness. It was just a way to make himself feel better for his failures, like any common bully. Near had seen it for what it was from the beginning, and had allowed it. That’s what those eyes had been saying to him as he rained down blows.

How could anything positive spring from a history like that? Even if Near didn’t hate him, if he understood the whys of Mello’s past behavior and could forgive, could Near love? Never mind if he could love _Mello_ , could he love _at all_?

The strongest emotion he had ever seen Near display had been only a few days ago, outside the pale boy’s bedroom, and that had been a far cry from love. Indignation and frustration did not a good relationship make. Any other odd conduct that Near had been evidencing over the weeks he wrote off as the albino picking up on Mello’s new feelings before he had himself. If anything was likely to shake Near up and make him act strange, it would be becoming the object of infatuation.

Nothing was more likely to scare him away, either.

He’d thought for just a moment after the exams that there might be reason to hope, to think that maybe there was a chance of Near regarding him with more than indifference. On the board showing the exam scores, Near had come out with a 98%, the same score as Mello. They had tied before for scores, but this was the first time Near had failed to receive a perfect 100%.

Mello’s stomach had lurched at the sight of those two little numbers. If Near’s scores were falling, did that mean his concentration was off? Was there a chance of returned feeling?

But Mello was disappointed for any further clue. When Near had gone up to look at the board, he hadn’t reacted at all. He had just taken a couple of seconds to study the scores and then returned to his seat. Not a glance or word to Mello, no sign on his face or posture that his less than perfect marks had affected him at all.

The flutter in Mello’s gut had sunk down sickeningly. The old story of Pandora’s Box originally had hope as one of the worst evils to be released into the world, and now he knew why.

Why was he reacting this much? Why was he feeling so deeply when he had only realized all of this a few days ago? Just how long had he felt this way? Memories of the years he had spent at Wammy House unrolled in his mind, all the way back to his first weeks, when he had still been having the nightmares. To the first time he had seen, and then met the pale boy in white pajamas. Had he fallen for him then, during those first days, or had it crept up on him slowly? Mello didn’t know. There was no way to tell for certain. All he could be certain of was that this feeling had been with him for a long while. If that meant years or only months, again, there was no way he could tell.

For the last few days, since the beginning of their winter break, this was all he had been able to think about. The whys, how’s, and when’s of it all. It had gotten him nowhere except frustrated and exhausted. Now it was almost impossible to think about it with any kind of realistic logic.

If Near did feel the same way, for example, then it should be no problem if Mello were to approach him and broach the subject. They were both highly intelligent and could reason their way through anything, right?

No. First, Near wouldn’t even believe him if he declared his feelings. He would probably think – and with good reason – that Mello was trying to trick him for amusement’s sake. Second was the reaction Near was likely to give if he _did_ believe Mello was being genuine. If Mello was honest with himself, he knew that Near’s response would be far from jubilant. There would be confusion, denial, and rejection. And that was all assuming that the albino somehow did feel at least kindly towards the boy that had been tormenting him for years, had declared to hate him, and had made him bleed for nothing more than being who he was.

Well, if Near didn’t love him already, then Mello would just have to prove himself. _Make_ Near love him back.

Again, no. Force, in this case, was not the way to go. Even Mello, who opted for the direct approach more than any other, could admit that. To force love would only make it come out twisted and tainted.

Mello pressed his forehead against the chill glass of the window. The snow was so white and perfect, like Near. No tracks marred its surface, no trace of the muddy landscape beneath it showed through; it was like the world had been reset and made innocent like it had been in the beginning. In the beginning, before the introduction of sin. A hand came up to the rosary that always hung at his neck, tucked safely underneath his black shirt.

If Near was purity and innocence, did that make him sin?

The hand not fingering the smooth beads around his throat clenched into another fist. Violence to passivity, aggression to tolerance, black to white, dark to light. The moon couldn’t show both faces at once. Shadow and light couldn’t maintain to same house.

It would never work. If for no other reason then because Mello couldn’t rid himself of those lingering, nagging moments of hate and envy. Those may never leave, and they would poison any relationship Mello and Near might create.

Mello stepped away from the window. He was going outside alone, cold or not, rules or not. The house suddenly felt stuffy and close, suffocating him. He’d go out into the snow, and see if the world could survive his stigma.

—•—

In the kitchen, sitting at the large table used for setting out prepared dishes, Near was stacking dice. Technically he wasn’t allowed to be in the kitchen by himself, nor was any other child, but no one ever minded Near in the kitchen. He always cleaned up his own mess, and ate so little that he wasn’t considered a risk for snacking in-between meal times. The only occasion he had ever gotten into trouble for being in the kitchen unattended had been when he had decided flour and water would make good building mortar. He’d been five at the time.

Now he was attempting to create a medieval concentric castle with round towers. He’d finished the inner wall, all sixes showing for the walls and all twos for the towers, with the occasional five representing the windows. Now it was on to the outer wall, everything built the same, only slightly shorter and wider.

Things still hadn’t improved on the Mello situation. In fact, the tension only seemed to be increasing. Since the day Near had found him coming out of his room, he had caught Mello staring at him a few times. Just staring. Near wasn’t sure whether to take that as a positive sign or not. He had decided to leave Mello completely alone, but not avoid him like he had been, to see if things would finally return to normal.

So far that plan had been a failure. While Near was doing his best to adhere to his old routines, Mello was not. The blonde, far from being his usual energetic self, was acting withdrawn. He would sit off by himself, keeping silent and staring into space. If he noticed that Near was in the same room, he would either stare at the younger boy until he left, or carefully avoid looking at him at all.

Near paused in the middle of building the outer gate.

All of this was beginning to frustrate Near intolerably. So he felt affection for Mello, fine. Did that mean the rest of the world had to stop, that everything else had to be put on hold in the face of this… feeling? He had seen others fall prey to this affliction, and it did seem as though nothing else mattered to them while caught in its throes, but Near was logical. He had lived almost his whole life in the practice of stifling and smothering emotion; this should have been a simple matter to take care of. Why it wasn’t was a mystery to him. And Mello was refusing to act normally. If the older boy could have just been his regular rude and explosive self, Near might have just been able to ignore it all until it was forgotten.

Not that there wasn’t anything to be appreciative for. It had been over a month since the last time Mello had picked a fight with him, bawled him out, or ruined any of his projects. It was small comfort to the little albino, who found the confusion more than enough replacement to the usual discomforts. If he just knew what Mello was thinking, why he was behaving the way he was, that would give him somewhere to start. Any attempt he made to figure out the inner workings of the blonde was thwarted, however; both by his own turmoil and by Mello’s inconsistency.

If Mello were confused by Near’s own behavior, then he should be acting normally. Nothing Near did that did not directly affect Mello should have bothered him enough to upset his routines. If the confusion made him angry, then he would have confronted Near directly, no hesitation. That was far from the case, as Near hadn’t had such a peaceful stretch in over a year.

If Mello had somehow divined Near’s feelings from his attitude, which was possible, then it was still all illogical. If he knew and was angered or disgusted, the least Near could have expected would have been a humiliation tactic of some sort. The worst to be expected didn’t bear thinking about.

On the other hand, if he knew and reciprocated – which Near had considered the most probable at one point – then Mello’s character would have had him at least approaching Near, feeling him out for some sign of how he would react. If Mello cared for Near in return, then he would have made some move by now. He was much more comfortable in the realms of emotion and interaction than Near was. Of the two of them, Mello had the upper hand in this situation. If only he knew, he’d have been thrilled.

But that had not happened. None of those things had happened.

Near stared at his ivory fortress. It was almost done, a miniature structure meant for defense and protection. It was all for show, though. The tiniest bump or vibration could send the whole thing rattling to pieces.

_Some detective,_ he thought disgustedly. _A brilliant mind, and you’re incapable of solving your own problems._

Something had to change, and soon. If things continued as they were, Near might actually go mad, or Mello might finally snap out of his lethargy and take out all of his dammed up frustration on Near at once. Near felt no need for a hospital visit.

The bell in the old tower of the orphanage struck once, marking the quarter. 4:15pm. Time to start clearing away the dice, before the cooks came in to prepare dinner.

The dice were stowed away carefully into a white canvas bag. On his way to the stairs leading to the second floor, Near had to cross through the foyer. There were large windows on either side of the front door, showing grounds that had been transformed the night before by the year’s first snowfall. What caught Near’s attention, though, was a black stain on the pure white background, slowly shrinking. Someone had gone outside, despite rules about designated recess times.

It was Mello. All black clothing, a head of light hair, and breaking the rules so blatantly, it had to be Mello.

Near watched as Mello walked further and further away from the orphanage. Where was he going? There was nothing in that direction except gardens and greenhouses.

Yet another unfamiliar sensation made itself known to Near, snapping up his spine and emboldening him. Something had to change. If Mello wasn’t going to be the one to initiate that change, then it would have to be Near.

Quickly, before he lost his newfound nerve, Near climbed the stairs to his room. Once there he dropped off the bag of dice and opened up his closet, pulling out a large white winter coat, a pair of boots, and a bottle of sunscreen. With all of that snow, he would have to be especially careful, the damaging light would be reflected and coming from all directions. After slathering the scented stuff on every inch of exposed skin, including behind his ears and under his chin, shrugging on the coat and pulling on the awkward boots, he made his way back downstairs.

The only problem would be if he were caught on the way out. This was breaking the rules, after all.

He wasn’t caught. He made it to the door without being seen, although he could hear the sounds of playing down the hall. Still being quick, he opened the door and let in a rush of frozen air. Near shivered as it whipped past his exposed face, and squinted in the glaring light. Once outside, he dug into a coat pocket and found one of his many pairs of sunglasses. When you were an albino, you had to be careful about your eyes, whether they were pigmented or not.

Following the set of tracks Mello had left behind, Near ambled out into the winter landscape.

—•—

Like everything else, the small vegetable patch Mello had come to had a fresh covering of snow. There were no vegetables left, they had all been harvested when the nighttime frosts had begun. So there were no shapes outlined in the pure white, only vague impressions of empty rows, their depths softened where the flakes gathered.

It didn’t look much like a garden, but Mello could imagine what it looked like alive and growing.

Back in the days before Wammy’s, before Mello had become Mello, his family’s garden had always been the one place he could go to feel at peace. There had been no judgment, no jealousy, and no punishments, only the quietness of growing things and the wind. Those old memories, long ago set aside to make room for a new life, were all that gave Mello’s tired mind any sort of rest.

Mello focused just on the peaceful times in the garden, when he had hid among the beans and cabbage, playing with stones… before the fire had taken everything…

A soft sound made Mello look up. Any tranquility he may have found was swept aside at the sight of Near, bundled in slightly overlarge winter clothing and holding a pair of sunglasses in ungloved fingers. His exposed eyes squinted in the light.

Mello felt something snap inside of him at the sight of the boy who haunted his thoughts. “Dammit, Near!” he shouted in the white stillness. “Why can’t you leave me alone?”

Near ignored the angry exclamation and looked around with an air of mystification. He had thought perhaps there was some hidden nook beyond the gardens that Mello was headed for, or that he intended to leave the grounds altogether and walk to town. But he had stopped here.

“It seems strange that Mello would come to a vegetable garden,” he said, still staring at the faint outlines of rows. “Why does he?”

Mello looked away, embarrassed. It was… well, not a rule, but a custom at Wammy’s that when you stepped through the doors and took on a new name, your past was left completely behind. He’d just been reliving a piece of his past, leaving himself open to those old doubts and wounds. If he admitted it, it might come across as weakness. “Why do you care?” he snapped at the boy, hoping open hostility would make him back off. “It’s just a place to go.”

“And yet very out of character,” Near looked up at Mello, eyes still straining a little in the unfamiliar brightness. “Mello hates vegetables, and is not known for enjoying quiet environments.”

“You don’t know everything about me, Near. I’m not some book to be picked up and read.” It was bad enough Near was standing here with him, alone, but his line of questioning was making him feel defensive. There had to be a better topic than this.

Near carefully tucked the sunglasses into a pocket. “This is true,” he agreed. “Mello is more complicated than a book. There is much that is unknown about him. For example,” here Near took a breath. If Mello wasn’t going to be straightforward, then he would have to be, he reminded himself. “Why did Mello watch me in the library?”

Not this topic. Mello fidgeted under the question, eyes still averted. “Does it matter anymore?”

Slowly, Near began to circle around the small plot towards Mello. He wasn’t used to wearing shoes at all, much less bulky boots, slogging through snow, so progress had to be slow. “Since we both appear to be experiencing the aftereffects of that day,” he said without inflection, “I think it is important.”

Mello noted Near’s advance, and kept himself from moving away in response. Instead he stared into the younger boy’s watering eyes. Why didn’t he put his glasses back on? “…I was interested in what you were doing.”

“Playing with my toys?” There was a hint of disbelief in Near’s voice. “Mello has seen me do that hundreds of times.” The distance had already been cut by half.

“Yeah, well, that time was different.” The blonde continued to fidget, both from the questions and from the growing proximity of the albino. Why was he getting so close?

Near finally stopped, a little less than arm’s length away. Mello had tensed so much he looked ready to bolt at any moment. If Near hadn’t been so nervous as well, he might have laughed. “In what way was it different?”

“God, Near, I don’t know!” Mello finally lost a little of his cool. “I’ve been trying to figure that out!”

“And has Mello discovered anything revealing?”

Mello felt the telltale heat in his ears again, and hoped it could be blamed on the cold. “Nothing I care to share with you.”

Near felt a little sick. He’d pushed Mello into this corner deliberately, and while it appeared he felt something for Near, it was also fair to say he appeared ashamed and embarrassed by the fact. Any hope Near had for… anything… was draining away.

If things couldn’t progress the way he had hoped, then it was time to snap their lives back into place. The one reaction Near could always rely on from Mello, and the best chance for normality, should be very easy to get.

“Because Mello has not discovered anything,” he said blandly.

The ice in Mello’s eyes flashed dangerously. “That’s not what I said!”

Near stared directly into those blues and spoke very slowly and deliberately, as though to a child. “Mello has no idea as to his own motives.”

“Shut up, Near!” Mello drew back a hand to slap the smaller boy… and stopped, arm shaking with the effort of self-control.

Near stared at the appendage, giving no outward reaction. Internally, he was stunned. He had been expecting to be hit, had been deliberately goading Mello for that exact response in the hope that it would snap the boy back to normal. But he had held back.

“Mello?”

The black clad arm came down slowly, back to Mello’s side. Scowling fiercely, he looked away from Near as though he were ashamed. “Near,” he said tightly, “you’d better leave, before I really lose my temper.”

“Mello is capable of controlling himself.” A touch of the surprise he felt colored the statement. Not only was Mello containing himself, he was telling Near to go before the control broke.

Mello refused to look at Near. “It’d be better not to test the limits of that,” he said. Near’s comment, more than his tone, was bothering him. He worked hard for his superior position in Wammy’s hierarchy, and thought he had achieved it over everyone except for Near. He’d resorted to violence in the past to feel like he was dominate, but he had no control over himself, just like Near pointed out. It was an uncomfortable thought.

Instead of leaving, Near took another half-step forward, closer to the conflicting blonde. “Mello controls himself, when he wishes to strike me,” he said slowly, working through the logic. “This suggests that Mello has a compelling reason to not hit me.”

Mello didn’t reply. What the hell was Near trying to do? Did he know how Mello felt about him; was he torturing him like this deliberately? After all he had put Near through over the years, he wouldn’t blame him if he were. That didn’t mean he had to like it, though.

Near waited for Mello to respond, or to look at him. He wanted Mello to look at him, wanted to see how the older boy was reacting to his words. A full minute passed, and Mello still refused to look away from a maple tree he seemed to find fascinating. Near took another step closer to Mello, who leaned away from him, but didn’t step back. “There has never been a reason to hold back before,” Near persisted. “Something has changed to reset Mello’s priorities: he is more concerned for my safety than fulfilling his own impulses.”

Mello swallowed. The boy was too close. “Near, leave.”

Near ignored the order. He’d started this scenario; he couldn’t step away from it now. He reached out and took hold of one of Mello’s sleeves, the same one that had been prepared to hit him. Mello jumped at the contact, but Near held on tightly. Finally, Mello was looking at him directly, eye to eye. Near saw anger in his face, but confusion as well, and… fear?

“What could have changed so much for Mello?”

The grip Mello had on himself finally slipped. “Goddammit, Near, go away!” He put his free hand in the center of Near’s chest and shoved.

Near gave away readily, falling backwards, boots tangling with each other. What Mello hadn’t counted on was Near maintaining a grip on his sleeve. The blonde lost his balance as well, and toppled after the albino.

Mello managed to avoid landing directly on top of Near, but he was straddling the boy, knees on either side of his hips, elbows dug into the snow on either side of his head, their faces only a foot apart. Mello froze as Near looked up at him. _Ah, Mary_ , he thought. _Of all the… this was only supposed to happen in cheap romances!_

Near looked up, slightly dazed from the knock on his head while landing. He cleared quickly once he realized the position he was in, lying underneath the older boy. Mello was definitely looking at him now, but now Near found the azure stare too penetrating, it went right through him. The albino felt an unfamiliar warmth on his cheeks, realized belatedly that he was blushing. He shifted, hoping Mello didn’t notice his coloring. “Why does Mello hold himself back?” he asked, as deadpan as ever.

It was a good try. Near almost managed to appear unaffected by their awkward positioning, but Mello wasn’t fooled. He saw the blush, felt the little nervous motion underneath him. Near was… responding. Given, he was responding to something that anyone would be hard pressed not to, but this was _Near_. Like his expressions, reactions had to be magnified several times to be read properly. Mello took a breath. If he was going to assume that blush meant what he hoped it did, then he was going for broke. “Because,” he said quietly, “I love you, you idiot.”

Near’s eyes widened at the confession. Mello was blushing now as well, but his eyes never left Near’s. “Mello… loves me…” he said, dazed once again. How could Mello say that word so easily? It was hard for him to say it even when he wasn’t returning it.

Still focusing entirely on the boy pinned under him, Mello replied with a simple, “Yes.”

Near was at a loss. Mello was obviously waiting for a response of some kind. Near felt the same way for Mello, but could he bring himself to say it? He shifted in the snow again, trying to hold the icy gaze leveled on him, but slid away from it. “Mello, I…”

Mello smiled. At least _this_ was expected: Near was having trouble expressing himself. As long as he was trying, that was what mattered. He tapped the struggling boy on the shoulder to regain his attention. “I know.”

Near blushed a deeper red, lips pulling up into a shy smile.

Mello’s smile, on the other hand, faded. “But it’ll never work, Near.”

Near’s stomach, which had been fluttering, sank. Had they made it to this point only to go back to where they had been in the first place?

“How can Mello know for sure?”

The blonde let his eyes drift away from the agate marbles that seemed to be staring _him_ down, now. “I won’t always be able to hold back, Near. You’ll get hurt.” Mello seemed to shrink into himself. “There’s too much rage, too much I still hate about you.”

If Mello expected his last statement to sting, then he would have been disappointed. Near knew that there would be conflict, between the two of them and within themselves as well. “Mello’s ambivalence is not entirely one-sided,” he pointed out softly. “There would be adjustments for both of us.”

Mello didn’t respond.

Near frowned. This wouldn’t do. Mello would avoid this out of discomfort if he let him. Near wouldn’t let him, not after the last month they had gone through figuring it all out. This new method he was using of being nice obviously wasn’t working, it was time to go back to the old tried and true ways. Be antagonistic. “Mello should share his concerns if he wishes them solved,” he said, instilling as much acid into the statement as possible.

Mello took the bait, snapped his glare back onto the albino below him. Through a scowl that wasn’t quite being held in check, he growled, “I hate how you’re always better than me.”

Near held the stare firmly. “As I am weary of Mello’s continuous assertion to be the best in everything.”

Frosty blue eyes narrowed. “Your obsession with toys is infantile and irritating.”

“Mello’s chocolate addiction is quite distracting.”

The older boy leaned in even closer. “Your speech pattern is fucking unbearable.”

Near let an eyebrow raise and lifted his head up out of the snow, bringing their faces within inches of each other. “ _Yours’ too_.”

Mello jerked back. That was the second time he’d heard Near use pronouns. He didn’t think he would ever get used to it, but Near had made his point. Mello wasn’t the only one who would have problems with creating a relationship with his rival. He sighed. “Why you?” he said, not really expecting a reply.

“They say that opposites attract,” Near said, taking Mello’s mutter literally.

“That’s magnets, genius.”

“Why not people, too?”

“It’s not—“ Mello stopped in mid-sentence as Near reached up to him. For a second he thought that the albino was going to touch his face, but the pale hand dipped back down again. Somehow, Mello’s rosary had come loose from under his clothing, and was pressed now at the hollow of Near’s throat. The boy carefully plucked up the crucifix, removing the cold metal from sensitive skin and studying it carefully. It was a classic depiction of Christ on the cross, worked in silver and very detailed. Near could see tiny thorns on the savior’s crown, delicate folds in the loincloth, and even small punctures where his captors had stabbed him.

Mello watched as Near began rubbing the beads of his rosary absently. It was almost the same way Mello stroked them during prayer, but it also reminded him of how Near would twirl his hair. Apparently they shared a similar nervous habit. Slowly, so he didn’t startle the younger boy, Mello brought up his hand to Near’s face and caught a lock of his silvery hair.

Near’s fingers paused. He looked up at Mello curiously, but didn’t object to the further invasion of personal space. When Mello began winding the lock carefully around his fingers, the same way Near did everyday, Near closed his eyes and sighed, tilting his head into Mello’s hand. Eventually, his own hand picked up its rhythm again, caressing the beads.

Near’s hair was amazingly soft. With his eyes closed, nestled in snow as pale as he was, the boy looked angelic. Not at all like the unfeeling robot Mello had known for years. The feel of the silky hair in his hand, Near’s even breaths, and the subtle sensation of his rosary moving with Near’s fingers calmed the blonde, making him drowsy.

This was a taste of what they might share, if they could just make it work. Was there a chance? “Near,” he said softly.

Dark eyes opened at once, wondering if there would still be rejection, or if Mello would give them a chance.

Mello never ceased winding Near’s hair, his eyes focused there as he said, “Give me numbers. What do you make our chances to be?”

Near paused, using the excuse of thinking to cover his surprise. Mello deliberately handing Near an opportunity to be in control? Maybe there was hope. “If both Mello and I were to give a concerted effort to a relationship… then I estimate the probability of success at about 19%.”

Mello winced. Near’s numbers were nigh infallible. The only one he knew who was better at them was L. “That’s pretty low.”

Near nodded, “Yes.”

A thought occurred to Mello suddenly, and he swallowed a chuckle. “Higher than I’d thought it’d be, though,” he said instead.

The albino looked up at Mello’s lightened tone. “It won’t be easy, Mello,” he warned.

A smirk played Mello’s lips, making his angular features appear wickedly mischievous. “Did you happen to factor in how stubborn I can be when facing improbable odds?”

Near blinked. “No, I did not.” He thought again, quickly reconfiguring all the known data around Mello’s personality. “Considering Mello’s intractable nature, the number rises to 40%.”

Mello’s smirk widened. “With that high a percentage, then my determination drops.”

Near frowned, not understanding the impish grin. “Then the probability percentage also drops.”

“And my ‘intractable nature’ rises again.”

Pause. “This is paradoxical.”

Mello lowered himself, coming in so close their noses were almost touching, grin once again widening to see the agate eyes widen at the proximity. “Tell me about it,” he whispered against a pair of pale lips. He leaned down further, closing the space between them until there was no more room for words.

—•—

Matt walked out the front door of Wammy’s, dressed in his heavy vest and boots, goggles firmly in place. Forty-five minutes had gone by since he had watched Near wander out after Mello, which should have been more than enough time to work through what they needed to. Any more time would be tempting fate.

He trotted through the snow, following the two sets of tracks. He only made it a dozen yards before he saw his quarry coming back the other way. Of course. Just as he goes out to look for them, they come back. Matt sighed with relief. They were both standing and walking, and… Matt grinned. They were walking _together_.

Finding a convenient tree to lean against – and which made him look cool – he waited for them.

The unlikely pair were deep in conversation as they approached. Matt caught some of it, and realized that he didn’t understand it at all. That might take some getting used to. If the top two were on speaking terms, then no one would be able to keep up with them. As they came close they finally noticed the redhead leaning on the tree, smirking at them. Near just looked back expressionlessly, while Mello scowled at his friend.

Matt beamed back at them, unconcerned. He looked pointedly at their hands, which were clasped together. He looked back up at Near, then at Mello, grin widening.

“Well, it’s about fuckin’ time!”

Then the gamer sprinted away through the snow, laughing hysterically, Mello hot on his heels, Near staring blankly after them.


End file.
